Perspective
by pumpkinmoose22
Summary: The Golden Age is on the horizon but, in typical fashion, things go south for the kingdom of Camelot. A new army threatens peace right when King Arthur mysteriously disappears, leaving Merlin with the job of keeping everyone together.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all! It's been a while since I posted anything but I'm back with a new story and it's going to be a decent multichapter fic. Hooray! Updates will be sporadic due to real life but they will come, I promise. In advance, thank you for your patience and any reviewing/favoriting/following you may choose to do. This story is post season 4 before season 5. Now for the famous disclaimer!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.**

**Enjoy! :)**

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Chapter 01

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Courtiers and servants crossed each other's path in the spacious courtyard of the magnificent castle of Camelot, going about their usual business like any other day when - _CRASH! - _Broken glass from an upper story window shattered, the jagged pieces falling onto the stone floor below. Amidst the glittering remains was an ornate crown of gold, slightly bent from the impact it made with the ground. Once over their fright, the people looked up nervously at the broken window, none daring to go near the mess but all wondering the same thing: _what on earth was happening in the king's chambers?_

Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, was in the attempted process of tearing off his armor, caring very little that he'd just thrown his crown out the window; he hated wearing the thing anyway.

It had been six months since the ban on magic had been lifted; six months since Merlin had been promoted to Court Sorcerer leaving Arthur with the unfortunate predicament of finding a replacement manservant. The only problem was that _no one_ was capable of doing the job properly – hence why, at this very moment, the king was destroying his personal effects.

"The utter _moron!_" he snapped to no one in particular as he struggled to remove the vambrace from his right arm. "Not even capable of putting armor on properly – I should have fired him _weeks_ ago!"

"Arthur?"

The king whirled around and his anger momentarily vanished at the sight of his adoring wife. The former servant was now every inch a queen, her long hair falling loosely down her back and her majestic form clad in a gown of the finest blue silk. Arthur would have rushed over and kissed Guinevere on the spot had it not been for the disapproving glare she was sending his way. All of a sudden the king felt like the inexperienced prince he used to be when the then brave serving girl put him in his place.

"What?" he asked defensively, preparing for a fight.

The queen stepped further into the room and folded her arms. "Care to explain why I just saw Kallum fleeing from your chambers in tears?"

Ignoring the guilt in his chest, Arthur huffed and returned his attention to his crooked vambrace.

"It's not my fault! The boy has no clue how to put on armor! The buckles are all in the wrong places, he put my right vambrace on my left, and he didn't get the straps tight enough on my shoulder! If this had been a time of war I would have had him thrown in the dungeon for his incompetence!"

"He only started two weeks ago and he's barely fifteen!" Guinevere argued.

"That's no excuse! When Merlin started he hadn't seen or touched an ounce of armor in his life and yet he knew where everything was supposed to go!"

"Because he asked me what to do," Guinevere retorted, striding forward to help the still struggling king. "He knew I was the blacksmith's daughter and therefore had more knowledge of how to wear armor than he did."

"Then why didn't Kalvin go to the blacksmith too? Or even a knight? He could have sought out the information but instead he tried to figure it out alone. Thanks to his stupidity I'm late for training! How can I teach the knights the importance of punctuality if I, myself, am late?"

Guinevere sighed as she worked, fixing her husband's armor as he continued to rant over the ineptitude of servants. After tightening the last strap to his shoulder, she stepped back and nodded her head. Seeing that everything was finally as it should be, Arthur started heading for the door. His hand was on the handle when Guinevere cleared her throat. The king turned around and saw her standing with her arms folded, clearly desiring something. He floundered. She frowned.

"A simple 'thank you' would suffice," she prompted.

"Sorry," Arthur apologized sincerely before adding, "And thank you, Guinevere. It's nice to know at least _someone_ in this castle knows what they're doing."

The queen's frown was still prominent as she shook her head in exasperation. "Arthur, you can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Firing every manservant that fails to meet your expectations."

"Guinevere, I keep firing them because they have yet to meet the necessary requirements," Arthur grumbled. "Kalvin didn't even know what the hauberk was!"

"Kallum," Guinevere corrected.

"What?"

"His name is Kallum not Kalvin."

"Whatever. The point is he was completely inept."

"And what of Ralph, Joseph, Aaron, Thomas, Edwin, Wallace, Clive, John, Horace, Arnold, Victor, and Silas?"

Arthur stared._ "Who?"_

Guinevere's eyes flashed with anger. "The manservants you've fired since promoting Merlin, Arthur!"

"You remember their _names?"_

"Of course I do! How could you not?"

Bewildered, the king shook his head. "With everything I have to do I don't have time to remember who they are, Guinevere. None of them lasted longer than a week anyway."

"They've all worked in the palace for _years!"_

"Really? I've never seen them before."

Guinevere huffed and, though not understanding why, Arthur realized he'd said something he shouldn't have.

"What?" he asked when she brushed past him, making for the door. "What did I do? Guinevere!"

The queen whirled around. "I don't expect someone like _you_ to understand, Arthur Pendragon! Why is the life of servitude beneath your notice? Is a person's value merited by their station alone? For _years_ I served in your court and you _never_ bothered to remember my name until _after_ Merlin showed up! How many others must go unnoticed by their king? The disrespect that nobles show to servants is deplorable. I had hoped that after all these years you would have changed but it would appear my hopes have been in vain."

The queen stared at him with severe disappointment before leaving the rather stunned king, slamming the door behind her with a deafening bang.

Another moment of silence passed before Arthur let out an angry cry and threw his sword across the room. He then proceeded to remove his vambraces and armor, drawing his knife and cutting through the straps, flinging the metal away without care. He forced himself out of his chainmail, removed his gambeson, and shrugged out of his undershirt, leaving everything on the floor. Striding to his wardrobe, he yanked the doors open with unnecessary force and pulled on a simple blue tunic before wrapping a worn belt around his waist. Still caught in his whirlwind of rage, he stormed out of his chambers and made for the stables.

Once there, he snapped at Tyr to ready his horse, tapping his foot impatiently into the stone floor as the heavier set man went to work immediately. Across the way several servants could be seen cleaning up the glass that used to be his window. Someone had removed his crown; probably already on a mission to fix any damage it may have endured.

_What was taking Tyr so long?_

Another minute passed and Arthur was about to storm into the stables when the servant in question appeared leading Brenin, his favorite riding horse, by the reins. Arthur snatched the reins from Tyr's hands without thanks and hoisted himself into the saddle before spurring Brenin into a gallop.

The king was completely furious.

Why did Guinevere feel the need to reprimand him instead of Kalvin? It was _his_ fault for not knowing what was required of his position not Arthur's! Merlin had never made those kinds of mistakes. How difficult was it to arrange armor properly anyway? Anyone with a brain could do it! And why would Guinevere get so upset over something as trivial as remembering peoples' names when Arthur knew he was going to fire them anyway? There was no point remembering them!

Angered, the king kicked Brenin in the sides, spurring him to go faster.

The late summer wind whipped through Arthur's short blonde hair, cooling the sweat on his brow from the sun beating through the dense tree cover. The further he went away from Camelot, the more his anger seemed to abate – which was the whole reason he'd ditched training and left the castle.

There was something about being in the forest that Arthur always loved. Perhaps it was because trees didn't judge his every move. Trees were constant and consistent, expecting nothing from him; _what a nice feeling!_ Sometimes the burden of the crown was so heavy on his brow that Arthur felt like he might sink into the earth.

So much was expected of him! So many people desired he cater to their every whim. He had to manage an entire kingdom – oversee the taxes, secure the borders, keep peace treaties between other kingdoms – all while the lords watched his every move, the ladies of the court gossiped daily over his choice of marrying Guinevere, the servants whispered behind his back sharing details of his life to the town, and the people expected him to provide and protect them from harm. And Guinevere demanded he remember the names of every servant in the castle?! Was she mad? There was no way he could make time for that!

Sometimes Arthur couldn't help but resent those who were lower than him in station. Their lives and the burdens they carried were nothing compared to his own. Servants merely had to show up and do the jobs required of them. Peasants simply woke up and went to work in the fields. The only thing they had to worry about was keeping their crops alive. None of them had to deal with pompous lords and ladies judging their every move and resenting them for wearing the crown. None of them had to make sure the borders of the kingdom were maintained and that peace treaties were being kept. They didn't have to make decisions that would affect thousands.

Turning a corner, Arthur was pulled from his frustrations by an unexpected obstacle and he abruptly pulled on the reins, forcing Brenin to a halt.

A woman had appeared right in the middle of the path, seemingly unfazed by the fact that she'd nearly been trampled by his horse.

"Are you mad?" Arthur demanded as he leapt out of his saddle."You could have been killed!"

The woman frowned as she watched him approach. "My apologies for causing such a fright. Do you often greet others in such a boorish manner?"

Contrite and surprised, Arthur halted his aggravated pace and begrudgingly cleared his throat. "Forgive me, my lady."

"No harm done," she said, studying him closely with her silver-gray eyes.

Something in her stare sent a shiver down his spine and Arthur's senses instantly switched to being fully alert. The woman was young, probably a few years younger than he; hardly a threat by any standard. She had light blonde hair and a persona of the highest nobility but he'd never seen her before in his court. Who was she and why was she out here in the middle of the forest? There wasn't any evidence of a carriage accident or an attack to her immediate person. Neither was a horse close by.

"Are you lost, my lady?" he asked, trying to keep his nerves to himself.

"Not at all, my lord," she answered, "I would say that, out of the two of us, it is _you_ who is somewhat lost."

Arthur's frown deepened. "I fear I don't understand. I know exactly where I am. You, however, seem to be alone in the woods without horse or carriage. I find it hard to believe a woman of your station is traveling on foot. Are you headed for Camelot?"

A dazzling smile lit the maiden's face. It was both alluring and dangerous. Arthur took an unconscious step back.

"I've not had reason to personally come to Camelot for many years," she answered. "I was not welcome, you see. But recent changes in the law have amended that."

There was only one law that fit that description.

"You're a sorceress."

"Very astute observation, young king, but I fear incorrect."

Arthur frowned. "If not a sorceress then what are you? Only those with magic were unwelcome in my kingdom before I lifted the ban."

"Indeed," the woman agreed, "but just because I possess magic does not mean I am a sorceress. Did Emrys not teach you there are more than just sorcerers and sorceresses in the magical community?"

"He did," Arthur admitted warily, "and he also taught me to be cautious of those who belong in said category."

"Really?" the woman asked with a sinister grin.

She took a step closer and Arthur's hand went for his sword. It was only when his fingers clutched air that he realized he'd left it behind. Silently cursing his stupidity, he took another step back, his brain starting to form some kind of escape plan should it prove necessary.

"Are you threatened by me, kind sir?" the woman asked curiously, noticing his actions.

"No, my lady," Arthur denied.

"You cannot lie to me," she whispered, taking another step. "I _feel_ your fear."

"I fear nothing."

"Everyone fears something," the woman gently scoffed, "But I will assure you that you need not have fear of me. I am merely here to help further Albion along."

Arthur's eyebrows drew together. "What do you mean?"

The woman's smile grew larger, a mischievous glint entering her gray irises.

"I know who you are, Arthur Pendragon. And I also know that in order for you to become who you are truly meant to be, a certain ignorance must be amended."

Arthur's heart stuttered with dread and he took another step back. Though he knew it was a pitiful gesture against magic, he raised his fists and settled in a position to defend himself. The woman's eyes lit with a golden glow and her magic froze the king's body in place, rooting him to the earth. Arthur tried crying out but his mouth was sealed shut. His eyes widened in fear as she closed the remaining distance between them.

"When the time arrives, Emrys will be allowed to end my spell. Until then, I fear you will find yourself unable to speak of what is about to happen. Do not fear, young king. I do this not only for _your_ good but the good of your people whom you love so much. You will thank me in the end."

Terrified and unable to defend himself, Arthur watched as the woman leaned forward and kissed his forehead. At her touch, the most peculiar sensation started from his head down to his toes. It almost felt like standing under a gentle waterfall except it was combined with the general exhaustion experienced after a heavy day's training. Arthur's muscles ached all the way down to his bones. The feeling lasted several more seconds before his body was released and the king fell to the earth, panting heavily on his hands and knees.

"What did you do to me?" he demanded but then froze.

The voice that had just left his mouth was not his own. It wasn't deep and commanding like that of a king. It was higher pitched and _youthful._ Horrified, Arthur looked down at his body. Gone were his strong, secure limbs, replaced with thin arms and legs of hardly any muscle. His clothes, now too large for his scrawny body, hung off him like a loose second skin. The king leapt to his feet and looked around for the woman only to find he now had to look up to meet her rather pleased gaze.

"What did you do to me?" he repeated, positively horrified.

The woman smiled happily. "I've simply made you twelve years old – minus the muscles. You can't be as sturdy as you were when you were actually twelve in order for this plan to work. Don't worry; you still look just as handsome as you were before."

Arthur spluttered incoherently but the woman did not seem to notice.

"Right, there are a few rules you're going to need to follow in order to return to your proper age and appearance. First, you cannot tell anyone who you really are; only your first name is allowed. Second, you cannot tell anyone you are under a spell. Third, you must accept the offer presented to you by a nobleman with red hair and refrain from returning to Camelot and your loved ones unless he decides to go to them of his own free will – you must not influence his decision in any way, shape, or form. If you abide by these conditions, you will be returned to your former glory. Right, I believe that's everything. Have fun then!"

"Wait – _what?!"_ Arthur cried but the woman simply disappeared into thin air, leaving the rather terrified youth standing alone in the middle of the forest path – a path that looked entirely different than the one he'd been standing in a moment before.


	2. Chapter 2

**This story is going to jump back and forth between Arthur and Merlin's perspectives, alternating by chapters depending upon what's going on. Hope you enjoy. Thanks for taking the time to view this adventure.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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**Chapter 02**

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The late afternoon sun shone brightly, lighting up the forest with a healthy green glow. Merlin breathed in the air with a smile, closing his eyes and relishing nature's magic pulsing through his surroundings. One of the joys of being Court Sorcerer was being able to leave the castle whenever he wished. The days of finding ways to sneak past the guards were finally over and the warlock was enjoying his freedom to the max.

Merlin still couldn't believe that a mere eight months ago Arthur had learned about his magic. It happened a month after the royal wedding. Arthur had taken Gwen to the sea for their honeymoon and Merlin decided that since life was finally settling down he needed to cast aside his fears and confess who he really was. With agonizing difficulty, he revealed himself to his king. He took him out into the woods, far away from any prying eyes and guards, and laid everything before Arthur's feet. To say that he accepted Merlin wholeheartedly at first would be a lie but, after a few tense weeks, the pair worked things out and the ban was lifted two months after the reveal.

Shortly thereafter, Merlin's magical capabilities escalated to an unheard of rate, leaving everyone – magic and nonmagic alike – speechless. Every spell he tried came with very little effort, producing more than satisfactory results. It was like his magic was celebrating its freedom by breaking the limitations Merlin had placed upon it since birth. Teleportation had been one of the many fun spells the warlock had recently mastered and he'd be lying if he didn't abuse the ability every now and then. It would drive Arthur crazy when he would suddenly disappear right in the middle of an unwanted conversation.

Smiling from several memories involving Arthur yelling at him to 'stop his vanishing act', Merlin settled on the grass in front of a bolder, leaning back and sighing in satisfaction. He _should_ be gathering herbs for future magical projects but surely it wouldn't hurt to relax and take a short nap? No sooner had the thought escaped him that the sounds of horses trampled into the clearing, disturbing his once calm afternoon. Groaning, Merlin opened his eyes to see the Knights of the Round Table surrounding him.

"Can I not get one afternoon of peace?" he grumbled as he clambered to his feet.

"Merlin!" Gwaine cried in greeting as the warlock brushed himself off, "What are you doing out here?"

"Just gathering some herbs."

"Have you seen Arthur lately?" Leon asked a little impatiently.

"Not since last night," the warlock answered, noting their concerned expressions and mirroring them with one of his own. "Why?"

"Merlin," Percival hesitantly began, "Arthur hasn't been seen since this morning."

"_What?"_

"He and Gwen had a fight," Elyan explained.

Merlin's panic instantly relaxed. "Oh, that's all?" At their confused looks, he chuckled, "There's no need to worry. Last time this happened I found Arthur on the battlements licking his wounds. He's probably just wandered off somewhere to cool down. He'll show up eventually."

"That's the thing," said Percival, "Tyr confessed that the king rode off this morning but only his horse came back an hour ago."

Merlin's indifference instantly returned to panic. "Did anyone see where he was going?"

"The guards at the gate saw him retreating north into the woods," Elyan informed.

Merlin glanced at the sunset and swore under his breath. It had been _hours!_ Anything could have happened to the prat in that time!

"Have you sent out any search parties?"

"Yes," said Leon. "We're one of them."

"And there are three others scouring the woods," Percival added.

Merlin nodded before heading in Camelot's direction. "Keep searching."

"Where are you going, mate?" asked Gwaine.

"To see Brenin. Perhaps I can use my magic to see what happened to Arthur through his eyes."

"You're going to try to read the mind of a horse?"

Merlin grinned over his shoulder at Leon and his skeptic frown. "You'd be surprised how much animals and plants see."

And without another word, the warlock opened a portal and disappeared.

"I hate it when he does that," Gwaine grumbled.

A moment later, Camelot's Court Sorcerer appeared in the middle of the courtyard, startling several servants and courtiers at once.

"Sorry," he muttered, closing the portal before setting off.

When he entered the stables a few minutes later, he found Tyr trying to repair a saddle.

"Lord Merlin!"

"Tyr, how many times have we been over this? It's just Merlin, remember?"

The rotund man looked abashed as he nodded. "Sorry, my lord – I mean – Merlin…"

"Tyr, where's Brenin?"

The stablehand's brow furrowed as he pointed behind him. "Where he usually is."

"Was he injured in any way?" Merlin asked as he headed for Brenin's stall.

"No, sir," Tyr answered, following just behind, "He seemed as calm as calm could be when the guards brought him in."

Frowning, Merlin approached the chestnut stallion with practiced ease and rubbed his nose. "Hey Brenin," he quietly muttered. "I need to know what happened to Arthur. Could you show me?"

The horse nickered and pawed the ground.

Taking a deep breath, Merlin rested his hand between the horse's eyes and closed his own.

"_**Ingefeallan úre ingemynd."**_

Colors burst forth, the scene of the stables filling Merlin's mind. Pressing his magic, the warlock relived Brenin's memories in reverse, the images flying quickly until he reached something most peculiar. Frowning, Merlin replayed the scene before retracting his hand and unsteadily stepping away from the horse.

"Are you alright?" Tyr asked, reaching out to support his shaking form.

"Yes," Merlin assured. "I confess I'm not fully used to that spell; it leaves me a little disoriented when it ends."

"What did you do?"

"Relived his memories."

"You can do that?" Tyr asked in awe.

"Yes," Merlin said as he gently removed himself from the servant's grasp. "I must see the Queen."

And without another word, he ran out of the stables leaving a rather confused Tyr behind.

It took a few minutes but the warlock finally found the Queen in a meeting with the council. The guards on either side of the closed doors didn't try to stop him as he forced his way into the room, causing several people to leap out of their skin at his abrupt interruption.

"Good heavens!" Lord Fairfax shrieked from the crashing doors.

"Merlin!" Gwen cried frightfully before asking, "Where have you been?"

"Never mind that now," Merlin said, ignoring the angry glares of several council members. "I need to speak with you."

"You can't just come barging in here whenever you well please," Lord Dennison snapped.

"Gwen, _please_," Merlin insisted, "This is urgent."

"And what _we_ are discussing is not?" challenged Lord Vambrant.

Merlin scowled. He didn't have time for this! "The safety of our king verses a land dispute between you and Lord Tyson, to me, is definitely of _far_ more importance, Lord Vambrant! Do you feel any differently?"

"… No…"

"Then get out!"

"You can't just –!"

"Lord Vambrant," Gwen interrupted, "We will continue this discussion later. The Council is dismissed."

Many lords grumbled complaints as they left, some bold souls going so far as to insult the warlock under their breath as they passed. Normally this would have upset Merlin but he cared very little about bigotry when Arthur was in trouble.

The moment the doors were closed Gwen's queenly persona dropped. "What's happened, Merlin?" she desperately inquired.

"I can't find Arthur. He's gone."

"I know. He's been missing since –"

"No, Gwen," Merlin interrupted. "I mean, he's _gone!"_

He then explained what he'd seen through Brenin's eyes.

"You're telling me that one second Arthur was riding through the woods and the next he's dismounted Brenin and just disappeared?"

"Yes!" Merlin cried.

Gwen bit her lower lip. "Sorcery?"

"I suspect so but the only way for me to know for sure is to examine the location where Arthur vanished."

"Can you find it?"

Merlin nodded. "Brenin's memories are still fresh in my mind. I'll follow his trail and see what I can find."

"Let me come with you!"

Merlin shook his head. "Gwen, the last thing we need is both our royals getting lost in the woods. Arthur would kill me if anything happened to you. Besides, Camelot needs its Queen in the King's absence."

Gwen looked like she was about to argue so Merlin took things a step further and grasped her shoulders.

"Gwen, _please_, stay here."

The queen frantically searched the warlock's eyes with a piercing gaze before she drew herself up in determination.

"Take some of the knights with you."

"Gwen, I'm perfectly capable of –"

"_No_, Merlin!" she snapped. "I've already lost my husband. I can't afford to lose my best friend too. Please, for me, take further protection. Don't make me order you."

The two shared a silent battle of wills before Merlin seceded to his Lady's wishes. Inclining his head in acquiesce, the warlock made for the door.

"Merlin?" He turned to see fear and hope shining from Gwen's caramel-toned countenance. "Find him."

Merlin smiled. "Don't I always?"

Leaving Gwen with his trademark grin, he headed off to gather the knights.

He would have preferred to take those belonging to the Round Table but, since his friends were currently out in the woods looking for Arthur, Merlin would have to settle for other soldiers in the king's guard. After hastily gathering Sirs Richard, Galahad, and Pelleas, Merlin led the small party out of the city and into the woods.

While not his usual company, Merlin had come to rather like these three knights. Richard and Galahad rescued him from some recently retired lords that had foolishly tried to kill him shortly after he'd been promoted to Court Sorcerer. Arthur would have killed the lords himself had Merlin not intervened after Richard and Galahad explained what happened; the result was the retired lords being stripped of their titles and shipped off to work in the mines for the rest of their lives. After the incident Richard and Galahad took it upon themselves to watch out for Merlin, much to the warlock's dismay.

Like Galahad, Pelleas was a new knight who struck up an instant friendship with Merlin when he agreed to help instigate a prank involving a mouse, a rather peeved king, and a hilarious training practice. They'd ended up in the stocks but seeing Arthur shrieking about while trying to remove said mouse from his trousers had been totally worth it.

"So, Merlin, what's the true reason you wanted us to help you search for Arthur?" Richard asked once they had reached the woods.

Merlin scowled at the brunette's knowing smirk. "Do I really need to say, Richard?"

"Go on," Galahad urged, "humor us."

"Gwen didn't want me going out on my own," he grumbled, sending the knights into a fit of laughter as he pulled his horse to a stop. "I swear, sometimes I think she forgets that I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

Of course, right after he said this, he tried to get out of the saddle only to find his boot caught in the stirrup. Flailing his arms about, the warlock successfully regained his balance only after releasing his foot with magic. The three knights chortled further over his predicament.

"What was that about taking care of yourself?"

"Oh, shut up," Merlin grumbled at Pelleas, red-faced.

Ignoring his comrades' continuous chuckles, the warlock bent down and touched the ground, closing his eyes and whispering a spell. Once more he recalled Brenin's memories, tying them in with a spell that would light up the exact path Arthur trod. When the warlock stood, golden tracks lit the forest path.

"I take it we're going to follow those?" said Galahad.

Merlin nodded before remounting his horse. "It's the same trail Arthur took. Hopefully by following them we'll find the prat. Come on."

It took almost an hour to reach the location Brenin had last seen Arthur and the second they turned the corner, Merlin's magic went berserk. Gasping, the warlock looked around the clearing, panic filling his breast.

"Merlin, what's wrong?" Galahad demanded.

The warlock ignored him, his blue eyes frantically searching the area for a hint of gold, a splash of red, but he knew it was useless. Despair gripped his heart.

"Merlin," Pelleas startled him by taking his arm, "What is it?"

"Powerful magic happened here," the warlock rasped. "I can't fully explain how I know this but Arthur… He's _gone_."

"What are you saying?" Richard asked nervously.

"Arthur's signature," Merlin painfully tried to explain, "It ends here. I can't feel him or see him beyond this point. Either he's being shielded from me or…"

No. To say it aloud would mean he fully acknowledged it and Merlin was _not_ going there. He'd worked too hard to keep the prat alive to have that happen to him now.

"He's being shielded," he muttered, "He _has_ to be."

"Okay. Then how are we going to find him?" wondered Galahad.

Merlin looked gravely at each of the knights before lowering his gaze and hopelessly whispering, "We're not going to."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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Chapter 03

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For the thousandth time Arthur cursed the sorceress – witch – _whatever she was_ – as he trudged miserably through the forest. Having zero perception of his whereabouts, the king had the brilliant idea of climbing a tree to get his bearings. What he hadn't foreseen was the literal loss of any muscle he truly possessed due to her spell. He'd made it halfway up the tree before losing his grip, unable to hold his body weight any longer. The resulting fall had brought on a great deal of cursing, a slightly sprained wrist, and a rather irate king.

The sun was setting fast and Arthur was finding himself in quite the predicament. He had no clue where he was, he was weaker than a lamb, the only weapon he had to defend himself was the small knife in his very loose boot, and he'd had nothing to eat since earlier that morning. He'd been wandering for hours in one direction but so far he hadn't come across any villages or open fields. The surrounding woods were beginning to suffocate him.

He was just considering using his knife to hunt when a twig snapped to his right. Arthur's hand instinctively went for his hip but grasped thin air. Again he cursed not having his sword! With narrowed eyes he surveyed the woods, extending his hearing and placing all his weight on the balls of his feet.

"Who's there?"

The response was not what he expected.

Out of the shadows emerged the largest wolf Arthur had ever laid eyes on. Twice the size of a horse with teeth as long and thick as the king's forearms, the fierce creature observed its prey with glowing red eyes.

Arthur wasn't fool enough to believe he could take this creature in his current predicament. He'd lost his natural body weight, strength, and stamina plus he only had a measly knife for defense. There was absolutely no way he was going to survive this. That witch had condemned him to death!

The wolf let out a fearsome growl and lowered itself, stalking closer. Never in his life had Arthur felt so helpless and – dare he say it – _afraid_.

He didn't want to die. Not now; not yet. There was so much more he had yet to accomplish! What about uniting Albion? His joint destiny with Merlin wasn't finished. Surely that merited him some sort of safety net from death?

Before he could blink the wolf let out a snarl and pounced, swiping its large paw. Reflexes born from years of training saved Arthur from being torn in two as the king dived out of the way and rolled across the ground. The pain in his wrist doubled when he tried and failed to regain his footing. Curse this weak young body!

Arthur twisted onto his back and braced himself as the wolf bore down, drool matting the fur around its mouth, its teeth bared in anticipation.

_So much for destiny, _the king thought and closed his eyes.

"_**ASTRICE!"**_

The wolf was blown to the side, its large body tumbling end over end before coming to a halt at the base of an oak tree. It didn't rise. Wide-eyed and heaving for air, Arthur's gaze landed on his rescuer.

The man was perhaps two years his senior (compared to his true age, anyway) with auburn hair and steel blue eyes. His build was like that of a knight and his stance alone confirmed his nobility. Arthur instantly envied his strong build.

"What the devil possessed you, boy?" the man demanded, lowering his hand.

"Huh?"

"Why didn't you run? You didn't stand a chance against that thing!"

Offended, Arthur stood and brushed off his overly large trousers. "I would have managed."

"Right," the redhead snorted, "With that knife you're clearly knight material - or maybe a delusional hedge wizard?"

"I'm not a sorcerer. Though, apparently, _you_ are."

"Indeed – and you'd best be grateful I am or you would have been monster fodder." The man observed him a moment more before asking, "What's your name?"

Remembering the sorceress's first stupid rule, the king grumbled, "Arthur. And you are?"

"Kay. Where do you hail from, Arthur?"

"Camelot."

"Camelot? That's a fair way from these woods. What brings you out here?"

Arthur didn't know if it would be against the witch's rules to say she'd randomly deposited him in the forest so he merely waved his hands but a second later cried out, cradling his wrist to his chest. Cursed injury; he'd completely forgotten about it.

"You're hurt," Kay observed.

"It's nothing," Arthur snapped, taking a step back.

Ignoring the king's warning glare, Kay marched over and held his hand out.

"Come on, boy," he coaxed, "I just want to take a look."

"I'm not a boy!" Arthur snarled.

"Sure, and I'm not a man," Kay grinned, "Now, are you going to show me or am I going to have to pin you to the ground?"

Arthur begrudgingly thrust out his arm and looked away. And, horror of horrors, he felt his face igniting with embarrassment. Could this get any more humiliating? He was in a body that blushed easily. Oh, he was going to _kill_ that witch!

"There; was that so hard?"

"Shut up!"

"Hey!" Kay reprimanded, his grin disappearing as he examined the wrist. "Watch your mouth, wart!"

"I beg your – _what_ did you just call me?!"

"A wart - and a thumping great one if I must say so," Kay grumbled as he poked Arthur's skin. "Fine lad you are, snapping at people."

The king prepared an outraged retort but Kay pressed down on his injury, resulting in a hiss.

"Hmmm, sprained wrist, I'd say," he muttered, "Though I'd rather you come with me so the town's physician can take a look at you."

"And what town do you hail from?" Arthur asked, not at all keen about following a stranger even if this one had just saved his life. If there was one thing he'd learned over the years, it was not to blindly trust others.

"Nemeton."

"Nemeton? Near Lot's border?"

"You've heard of it?"

Arthur nodded, somewhat relieved to know he was still in his own lands. "Sir Ector controls that area of the province."

"You've heard of my father?" Kay asked with some surprise.

"Of course," Arthur said before catching himself, "I, er, I'm from Camelot, remember? He was a famous knight in his day. I, um, would sometimes hear the knights speaking of his heroics in the tavern."

"A bit young to be allowed in a tavern, aren't you?"

Arthur's face caught fire – again. Glancing away from Kay's scrutiny, he cleared his throat and shrugged. "I may have snuck in once in a while?"

Kay let out a bark of laughter. "And probably got thrown out by your ear, right?"

"…Yes…" Arthur nearly growled.

Looking up at the darkening sky, Kay seemed to make a decision. "Well, you've got spirit even if you are a bit foolish. Come on, then, Wart. It's getting dark and we need to get you to Ben."

"Don't call me that!" Arthur snarled but followed him nonetheless.

Nemeton was a fairly large town entrusted to Sir Ector by Arthur's father shortly after the knight had become a lord and retired; he was given the land since Uther wouldn't trust the borders with Cenred's (now Lot's) kingdom to anyone else. Thinking on it, Arthur had met Sir Ector as a boy on several occasions but never Kay. If he recalled correctly, Sir Ector had told Uther his son had a grave illness. Well, from the look of him, Arthur knew that was a lie. The only logical conclusion then was that the well-respected Sir Ector had lied to the king to protect his son from being burnt at the stake. Arthur could understand his reasoning. Many people, Merlin included, had lied to protect themselves and those they loved.

After passing the various fields containing the year's crops, Arthur followed Kay into the village surrounding Lord Ector's manor. A few peasants could be seen heading home from the small market, their baskets filled with their day's purchases. Many hailed the lord's son who nodded politely without stopping.

The physician's home was located fairly close to the manor, the small stone building comparable to a miniaturized version of Gaius's chambers. Jars full of herbs and poisons stood on several shelves, a small bookcase housed a handful of volumes and glass containers of substances unknown, a few baskets were gathered under the window containing various bandage materials next to a patient bed, and a curtain separated the front of the house from the back living quarters. Ben the Physician was in the middle of clearing off a table opposite to the patient bed, his hands covered with crushed herbs when Kay lightly coughed.

"Milord!" Ben yelped, jumping a little. "What brings you to my humble home?"

Kay gestured to Arthur. "Found this one in the woods trying to take on a hellhound."

"Gracious!" Ben cried, rushing over, "Are you alright, lad?"

Arthur forced his prying hands away. "I'm fine! It did nothing to me. And what do you mean by hell_hound_? I thought it was some sort of magical wolf."

"They're definitely magical and _very_ dangerous though not at all in the same family," said Kay. "It's his wrist, Ben."

Ben snatched Arthur's wrist towards him and glared, halting the king's prepared protest. Arthur knew better than to fight against a physician. He didn't try to hide his displeasure, however, as Ben fussed over him and Kay smirked near the doorway.

After being properly bandaged and fed a piece of cheese with some bread – because his stomach had growled – Arthur was ordered not to use his left hand for any heavy lifting. Thanking Ben, he left the house half an hour later with Kay right behind, the first stars beginning to appear in the sky overhead.

"What now, Wart?"

Arthur grit his teeth.

"I'm not sure," he reluctantly admitted before turning around and muttering, "Thank you for your help."

"You're welcome," Kay said while studying him. "Arthur, what were you doing out in those woods?"

Arthur shrugged again, not knowing what to say.

"Were you running away?"

"No."

"Then why did you leave Camelot?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because a twelve year old shouldn't be wandering through the forest alone," Kay answered, somewhat frustrated.

"It's complicated," Arthur muttered petulantly, turning away, "And no amount of prying will loosen my tongue further so leave it."

Kay's eyes narrowed. "Fine, but I'm not allowing you to wander back into that forest by yourself. Since you left Camelot, I can only deduce you no longer have a home, therefore I'm going to offer you an alternative."

Arthur's ears perked up at the word 'offer'_. _

_'You must accept the offer presented to you by a nobleman with red hair…'_

"What might that be?" he asked.

"Work at the manor as one of our servants. I've been looking for someone to fill the vacancy for some time."

"Me? A _servant?!"_

"It's better than begging for your bread every night! You would have a roof over your head, a bed to sleep in, and food to eat. I honestly don't even know why I'm offering, but… Well? Do you want the position or not?"

Arthur wanted to refuse but knew he couldn't. This was 'The Offer'. If he didn't take it, he was sure to be stuck like this forever.

"Fine," he grumbled.

Kay's face lit up and he ruffled Arthur's hair. "Good. Come on then, Wart."

"Stop calling me that!"

The king halfheartedly followed his new employer, the two reaching the manor a few minutes later. The guards at the entrance saluted Kay as he passed. Kay's home certainly wasn't grand in Arthur's eyes but it was a castle in its own right. It was square in structure with four square towers situated in the corners and four large walls surrounding an inner courtyard. A stable was connected to the outer west wall next to a field used for laundry and training purposes. Sentries lined the walls, occasionally marching back and forth, observing the land – particularly towards the East; Odin's borders.

"How many soldiers do you have here?"

"Fifty," Kay commented, "along with a handful of knights from Camelot. King Arthur has them rotated every few months."

"I know."

Kay glanced at him with a frown. "Learned that from one of your tavern trips?"

"Yes!" Arthur said quickly. "Soldiers can get pretty loose-lipped after a few drinks."

"Right… This way."

Arthur followed him towards the northwest tower.

"Brom is the Steward of the Manor," Kay explained. "He'll be who you report to. I'll put in a request to have you assigned to my quarters as much as possible though. That way I can keep an eye on you."

"Don't you have a manservant?"

"My father does but I didn't wish for one. I like the change in staff every day."

Arthur looked at him incredulously. "Don't you find that exhausting? Every day you have to tell someone new exactly how you like things done. Why not just teach one person and be done with it?"

Kay smiled. "Because that's boring. Here we are." Coming to a large wooden door, he knocked once before entering. "Brom?"

A man in his late forties looked up from a large book he was writing in. A few wisps of graying brown hair lined the sides of his large face, the rest held back by a thick leather cord at the base of his tanned neck. For a Steward, Arthur thought Brom looked more like a mercenary with his thick build and hawk-like eyes.

"Milord," he acknowledged in a deep, grating voice, "Who is this?"

"This is Arthur," Kay introduced. "He's our newest addition. I hope you'll make sure to teach him the ropes. He's got a sharp wit and tongue but I think you can help him with the latter part?"

"I'll try my best, milord. Come here, boy."

Arthur approached, unafraid. This man was clearly trying to intimidate him with his penetrating stare and straightened posture but he would soon find that Arthur was not easily cowed. He'd met his fair share of intimidating people at court and this man didn't hold a candle to any of them.

"A bit scrawny, isn't he? What happened to his wrist?"

"Nothing," Arthur snapped as Kay explained, "He got hurt before I found him in the woods. Ben says not to let him do any heavy lifting until it's healed. He estimates about three days."

Brom grunted. "Right, then; I'm sure I can find something for him to do. Come on, lad, let's get you set up."

"See you around, Wart," Kay called cheerfully.

Arthur glared at him before reluctantly following Brom out of the room and down the hall. Torches brought a soft golden glow to the stone walls, illuminating the occasional tapestry and chasing away most of the night's shadows. As they went, Brom explained the basic rules and regulations expected of the household. Arthur didn't like a word of what was said. Doing laundry, changing bed sheets, serving meals, preparing food in the kitchen, mucking out stables, and polishing the weapons in the armory was not his idea of fun at all. Then there was the rule of answering a summons by any of the nobles and doing exactly as requested no matter how absurd the task. Arthur knew this was how things worked; he just never thought he'd be on the _serving_ end of the interaction.

Brom introduced him to his room which consisted of a bed, a bucket, and a used candle on a tiny table.

"I expect you back in my office at sunrise," he stated. "Since it's your first day, I'll have Ellie show you where to go. The washroom is just down the hall, third door on your left. We'll have to get you some new clothes. Orin might be your same size. That's it, I believe. See you in the morning."

And then he left, leaving Arthur standing in the dark of his room, the small window providing a tiny source of light.

The king sat down on the bed and removed his overly-large boots. In less than a day he'd gone from being a sovereign to a servant. He swore before letting out a humorless chuckle.

"I've become Merlin," he groaned, falling back onto his bed only to complain, "This is a bed? I feel like I'm sleeping on rocks!"

Grumbling, the king tried to get into a comfortable position for almost an hour before eventual exhaustion won out and he fell asleep, not at all looking forward to the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

**A big thank you to mizzymel, mersan123, J.H.W., GuestM, and Koala789 for their reviews. Your feedback has kept this story going and will continue to do so as more chapters come. I owe you guys a lot!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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**Chapter 04**

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Gwen had not taken the news well. Merlin had left her hours ago, settling himself on the battlements, looking out at the Lower Town with a lost expression. The search parties had returned a while ago, each being informed of what the whole castle now knew: the king was missing and not even the great Emrys knew where he was.

Merlin felt robbed and lost. His best friend, his destiny; both had been snatched away from him and he didn't have the slightest clue how to get them back.

"Arthur," the warlock whispered despairingly, "Where _are_ you?"

"Gracious, such doom and gloom; you could wilt even the most cheerful flower in your current mood."

Merlin jumped before promptly falling on his backside, staring disbelievingly at a young woman who had literally just appeared at his side. She sent him a sly smile around her long-flowing golden hair, her gray eyes sparkling merrily.

"Your clumsiness is rather endearing, Emrys."

"Who are you?" Merlin demanded as he pushed himself back to his feet. "And how did you get up here?"

"I can appear wherever I wish, whenever I wish," she answered. "I am the Maiden. Though you might know me as the Triple Goddess."

Merlin's jaw dropped. _The Triple Goddess? Seriously?_

"W-What are you doing here?" he asked nervously. He had every right to be. This was a _deity_ and the one Morgana worshipped at that!

"Relax, Emrys, I merely wish to talk. Your sorrow is great but it need not be so. Fear not for your king. Destiny is at work."

"You know where Arthur is?"

She glanced at him before smiling up at the stars. "Indeed. And, no, I will not reveal where he is."

"What? Why not? He needs me!"

"Contrary to what you may believe, currently he does not. Actually, he needs you to take care of Camelot." The goddess's demeanor changed and she turned back to face the warlock, her eyes darkening as she murmured, "A great battle is coming, Emrys. The Once and Future King will come but it is your and the Queen's task to prepare the others in his absence."

She turned to go.

"Hang on!" Merlin cried, snatching her wrist and spinning her about. "Goddess or not, you can't just leave me with that."

"That's all you're going to get," she smirked, her wrist turning to vapor as she stepped out of his grasp. "Although, I must ask a favor."

"A favor?" he repeated, blinking incredulously. "What can I do for a goddess?"

"Morgana, my High Priestess; she has lost her way. She does not worship me as she should. Morgause, the Fallen, provided her with incorrect instruction and now she abuses the power I gifted her. I ask that you help her find her way."

Merlin shook his head. "Morgana would sooner kill me than give me a chance to talk to her."

"Much has changed for my Priestess, Emrys. Do not give up on her. Please. She can be so much _more_ than what she has become. She just needs someone to restore her faith."

"And I'm supposed to do that?"

"No. But you know someone who will. You are merely meant to rescue her."

The goddess began to walk away.

"What is that even supposed to mean?" Merlin demanded.

"Keep your eyes open, Emrys, and you will see."

And then she vanished, leaving Merlin even more confused than he was before.

Swearing, the warlock turned about and leaned into the wall, his eyes gazing unfocused into the distance.

Arthur was safe. Well, according to the goddess he was safe. But could the Triple Goddess really be trusted? She was the deity of the High Priestesses and every experience with _them_ had left Merlin with a very negative opinion. Naturally that left her word to be of very little value to him. He needed reassurance. Twisting around, he left the battlements and headed for the stables, running into Gwaine on the way there.

"And where are you off to?" he asked, joining Merlin as they reached and began heading down the courtyard steps.

"I need to speak with Kilgharrah."

"Mind if I tag along?"

Merlin was about to protest but Gwaine cut him off, firmly griping his arm. "Look," he began in a voice that was deathly serious, "we just lost our king. I don't think any of us are comfortable with you sneaking off by yourself right now. Let me come with you."

Merlin sighed before gently removing Gwaine's hand. "Even if I said no, you'd just follow me."

Gwaine laughed, thumping him on the back. "Darn right, I would!"

It took a few minutes to saddle the horses but then they were off, Gwaine leaving a stable boy to convey a message to the queen that he was with Merlin and they'd return soon.

Since the ban had been lifted, Kilgharrah had settled somewhere in the Mountains of Isgard, making the waiting period a lot shorter for Merlin once he'd summoned him. As they rode Merlin sent out the call, desirous for the Great Dragon to be there when they arrived. Sure enough, as they came upon the clearing, Kilgharrah was already perched in the grass.

"This had better be important, Merlin," he grumbled. "I had to cancel my hunt to answer your summons."

"Believe me, it is, Kilgharrah," Merlin assured before launching into everything that had happened that day.

Kilgharrah listened with rapt attention, his tail flicking back and forth occasionally. Gwaine glanced back and forth at the two with raised eyebrows as the account came to a close.

"Do you believe the goddess was telling the truth?" Merlin inquired.

"I do, Merlin," the dragon muttered, shifting his haunches. "As disturbing as this is, I fear we have no choice but to trust her."

"And what she said about Morgana?"

"What about it?"

"The way she said it, I think the goddess believes she's capable of change."

Kilgharrah frowned. "I cannot believe that to be possible. The witch is meant to be the hatred to your love and the darkness to your light."

"But that's not what the goddess said," Merlin argued. "Can it be possible for destinies to change?"

Kilgharrah let out a reluctant sigh. "Yes," he grumbled, "but only for those whose destinies are not great. Yours and Arthur's destiny, for example, is one that cannot be altered."

"But Morgana's could be?" Merlin pressed.

"Since the Triple Goddess has brought this to light, it must be so. But I wouldn't get my hopes set too high, young warlock. Words can sometimes mean more than what they seem."

"Cryptic may be your style, Kilgharrah, but she seemed pretty straightforward to me."

"Believe what you will. If the goddess is correct and Arthur is safe, I would suggest you focus all of your efforts on making sure he has a kingdom to return to."

"So the goddess was right, then?" Gwaine asked, stepping forward. "There's going to be a war?"

"The wind has been full of vile whispers as of late, sir knight," Kilgharrah muttered before turning back to his dragonlord. "Prepare yourself, Merlin. The dawn is drawing nigh but must abide the night."

And with that, he took off.

Gwaine frowned, staring up at the sky. "I'm going to go out on a whim here and guess he wasn't talking about the sun coming up in a few hours."

"You'd be right," Merlin muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "As much as I wish it wasn't true, war _is_ coming, Gwaine. We need to warn Gwen."

"Can we warn her tomorrow? She's already facing a rather emotionally disturbed night. One more of ignorance surely won't cost us the battle."

"Alright," Merlin agreed as they wandered back into the woods where the horses were tied. "But I'm not waiting any longer than that. If Arthur is supposed to come back on his own, I want him to have a home to come back to."

"You and me both, mate," said Gwaine as he pat him on the back. "How about we go to the tavern when we get back? I think we could both use a drink."

[][][]

Merlin's slumber was disturbed the next morning by a timid selection of knocks. Reluctantly getting out of bed, he scratched his head, yawned, and answered the door.

"What is it, Kallum?" he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Forgive me, milord, but the Queen requests your presence in the throne room immediately."

"I'll be right there," he sighed before shutting the door and massaging his temple. "_Why_ did I agree to go with Gwaine to the tavern?"

Grumbling, he searched a nearby cupboard for a headache remedy. Finding one and downing it in one go, he shuffled over to his wardrobe and picked out the first outfit his fingers touched. Dressing in a simple green tunic, brown trousers, and a golden scarf, Merlin pulled on his boots and left the room, snatching an apple from his fruit bowl as he went.

The air in the castle was tense, the inhabitants filled with anxiety. Merlin marched down the corridors with purpose, refusing to let their unease bother him. Everything was fine, he had to remind himself. War may be coming but that didn't mean there was currently an army at their front door. They had time to prepare. _He_ had time to prepare.

And Arthur was safe.

Once he reached the throne room the guards opened the doors, nodding to Merlin as he passed. The warlock smiled at them reassuringly before entering. Several lords and ladies of the court were already present, their soft mutters filling the air. Gwen sat in her throne, her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes hooded with trouble as he approached. A man apart from the crowd stood before her, eyeing Merlin somewhat nervously.

Ignoring the very empty throne beside her, Merlin inclined his head to Gwen and muttered, "My lady."

"Merlin," she managed to smile, "King Bayard has sent an envoy but I refused to hear him until you arrived."

"Forgive me for making you wait," he said apologetically as he took up his customary position next to Arthur's empty throne.

"Please," Gwen invited, turning to the envoy, silencing the muttering crowd.

The man stepped forward and bowed. "Milady, I bring grave tidings. My king has received very disturbing news from King Lot. Sarrum of Amata has united with the Saxons and assembled an army which at this very moment has already crossed Essetir's borders. Many villages have been razed to the ground. Lot has asked for assistance and my king is amassing his armies. He wished to alert the other kingdoms -as well as seek their advice- should this lead to war."

"It's going to."

"Merlin?" Gwen questioned.

"Forgive me, my Lady," he said, stepping forward. "I have received confirmation from an unquestionable source that war is imminent."

"And what source is this?" Lord Vambrant rudely interrupted.

"A goddess, if you must know," Merlin stated, "as well as the Great Dragon."

"A goddess?"

Merlin glared at Lord Vambrant, his gaze flickering with liquid fire. "As unbelievable as it sounds, it's the truth. War is coming and we must prepare."

He turned back to Gwen and found her staring at him intently. After a moment she nodded her head. "Very well."

"Your Highness, you cannot be serious –"

"Lord Vambrant, if you do not hold your tongue I will have you removed from this room," Gwen said before moving to her feet. The offended lord glared but said no more, pleasing most in the vicinity. "Sir Leon."

Camelot's First Knight stepped forward and bowed. "Your Majesty?"

"Send our best riders to the other kingdoms with a call to arms. The Sarrum has a reputation of ruthlessness. Uniting with the Saxons can only bring the worst possible results. We will invite our allies to gather in Camelot in two weeks. In the meantime, we will strengthen our own borders. Reach out to all the lords living on the edge of our boundaries. Give them orders to have all their able-bodied men actively patrolling the borders until further notice."

"I'll see it is done," Leon promised.

Gwen nodded. "This court is dismissed."

It took a while for the hall to clear. Lord Vambrant, as well as his pesky followers, made sure to send Merlin angry glares as they left. The warlock hardly paid them any attention. Eventually it was just him and the queen.

"You did the right thing, Gwen," he said.

She let out a heavy sigh. "First Arthur goes missing and now this. I know I did what he would have done but I don't think I have the capability of uniting the allies without him."

"That's why I'm going to help you do it."

"You?" she said with surprise.

Merlin nodded. "It's what needs to happen. The goddess said so."

He then proceeded to tell her everything the deity had mentioned. Gwen moved towards the window and sighed deeply, her shoulders sagging in relief.

"He's alright," she whispered. "Thank goodness!"

"He'll reappear when he has to; I'm sure of it. Until then it'll be up to us to keep everyone together," Merlin stated.

"And what of Morgana?"

Merlin shook his head. "She has a part to play in all this. I'm just not sure what."

"Very well," Gwen said, squaring her shoulders, "Let us focus on what we _can_ control."

Merlin sent her a grim smile, watching as the mantle of leadership fell upon her like it always did in Arthur's absence.

"For Arthur and for Camelot," the queen declared, turning fully to face him.

Merlin nodded. "For Arthur and for Camelot."


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for the reviews!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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Chapter 05

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Two weeks.

Two weeks of changing beds, washing dishes, mucking out stables, serving food, scrubbing floors, washing and mending clothes, and polishing armor.

Arthur never would have believed he'd be in such a position. He'd pricked his finger on a needle more times that he could count, he'd broken nails and rubbed his skin raw from how many floors he'd scrubbed, and he didn't even want to mention how many undergarments he'd had to wash. His appreciation for Merlin and every servant in his employ had reached the heavens after his first day in what he liked to call Hell.

There were twenty servants at the manor, him included. Brom was a fierce taskmaster. He carried around a thick stick which he didn't hesitate to use if anyone was found slacking in their duties or in need of being corrected. Hence, Arthur had the misfortune of becoming very familiar with Brom and his weapon; he was the worst servant anyone had ever seen. It had taken the combined efforts of Ellie and Orin to help him learn all there was to learn.

Ellie was in her early twenties and possessed a spirit just as sweet and kind as Guinevere. The similarities between the two were so great that sometimes Arthur's heart would physically ache to be back in Camelot with his adoring wife. He'd left on such bad terms with her and regretted it every single day. One thing he was certain of: he was going to sweep Guinevere into his arms and kiss her senseless the moment he returned to his true self.

Orin was a bit like Percival; quiet yet companionable. The eleven year old helped balance out Ellie's energy, making most of Arthur's days rather pleasant. The other servants in the house tried not to get close to him since trouble and Brom seemed to follow him everywhere.

Another misfortune to befall the king was the nickname he'd earned; well, _nicknames_. Kay's label of calling him Wart had –unfortunately- stuck and was now used more than his other nickname, Artie, given to him by Ellie. In fact, Ellie and Orin were the only ones who called him the latter. Everyone else resorted to the former, Lord Ector included. Arthur hated it not only because it grated on his nerves but because it made him miss Merlin more than ever.

Before, Merlin had been the only one daring enough to call him by such ridiculous names because no one else was brave (or stupid) enough to do otherwise. But these people didn't know he was the king and therefore treated him like a normal person. While it was foreign, Arthur found himself somewhat enjoying being numbered with the mundane in that respect (even if it made him a little homesick).

"Are you finished yet, Artie?" Orin asked.

"Just about," Arthur muttered, wincing as he folded yet another sheet. Brom had given his knuckles a good whack earlier for taking too long making Kay's bed.

"Well hurry up," Orin encouraged, "or your hands are going to end up a matching set."

Arthur looked down at his slightly bruised knuckles and frowned. "I don't know how he expects me to do all this work if he keeps inflicting me with injuries."

"He's just trying to help you learn to go faster," said Ellie as she piled all the laundry he and Orin had been folding into a large basket. "And you'd best do so, Artie, since I overheard Gretchen in the kitchen saying Lord Carlton is to pay us a visit this evening. She's been cooking up a storm since before dawn!"

"Lord Carlton?" Arthur repeated.

Ellie nodded. "He's the Lord of Balor."

"I know who he is."

"Really? How so?"

Arthur blushed under Orin's curious stare and cleared his throat. "Um, I know him from the time I spent in Camelot."

"You know, you haven't told us much about your past but I can't help thinking you worked in the castle," Ellie mused.

"What makes you say that?" Arthur demanded.

Ellie shrugged while sending him a kind smile. "No need to get so defensive, Artie. I just assumed because you seem so familiar with noblemen and know how to treat them. Speaking of, Brom wanted to see you. I think he's going to assign you to assist Lord Carlton since Adrian's gone."

"Adrian?"

"He was the servant Lord Carlton used to always ask for," Orin revealed.

"_Was?_ What happened to him?"

"He killed himself last winter," Ellie revealed.

"Trevor found him with his throat cut in his bed," said Orin excitedly. "You're sleeping in his old room, you know."

Highly disturbed, Arthur's face paled. "Really? How do you know he wasn't murdered?"

"He left a note," Ellie replied. "Said life wasn't worth living anymore. Poor mite. None of us had a clue. He always seemed so cheerful… But don't worry, Artie, Brom made sure the bed in your room was replaced right after the incident."

That revelation wasn't exactly comforting. He'd been sleeping in a dead man's room and no one had the decency to tell him this until now? Wonderful; just another thing to add to the list of reasons why he hated his current life.

Ellie glanced out the window. "You'd best go and find Brom, Artie. We'll finish up here."

"Alright."

Leaving them to the laundry, Arthur headed to Brom's office with a sour face.

The idea of being Lord Carlton's personal servant was not at all exciting. He despised the man whenever he came to court because he believed he was the greatest creation to ever walk the earth and demanded everyone to treat him as such. Arthur remembered the last time he'd come to Camelot to conduct business regarding his estate. His father had still been king and Arthur had done everything he could to avoid Carlton and his privy nonsense. Instead the then prince had entrusted the servants to satisfy the young lord's ridiculous expectations. Well, now he was going to experience firsthand what it was that they had to deal with.

Brom was mumbling to himself when Arthur stopped at his office door, leaning over a piece of parchment and occasionally marking it in several locations.

The king cleared his throat. "You wanted to see me?"

Brom glanced up. "Wart, yes, come in."

Arthur did so, stopping at his desk and waiting to be further acknowledged. Normally it would bother him that he was being ignored but Brom was one of those people he would happily disappear into the woodwork for; anything to prevent him from being hit with that stick again.

After another minute Brom straightened and gave Arthur his full attention. "As I'm sure you've already heard, Lord Carlton of Balor is arriving this evening and plans to stay with us a few days. Your performance has excelled to the point I feel comfortable allowing you to serve him while he is here. This is a major responsibility, Arthur. It will not due for you to embarrass Lord Ector or myself."

Arthur couldn't help asking, "And if I do?"

"Then you'll learn what it's like to be chained to the dungeon wall for a week after a good flogging," Brom fiercely answered.

Arthur had been a resident of Camelot's dungeons several times but to be flogged? Swallowing, he straightened his back and looked Brom right in the eye.

"I'll do my best."

"I expect nothing less. Now, Lord Carlton will be staying in the east wing. I want you to spend the remainder of the afternoon cleaning out and preparing his chambers."

Arthur nodded and left, not at all thrilled.

After grabbing a few cleaning supplies from a nearby broom cupboard, he made his way up to the east wing and assessed the chambers with a frown. Immediately noticing the layer of dust coating the dining table, his grimace grew.

"When was the last time anyone cleaned this place?" he grumbled.

Fetching a bucket of water, the king set to work wiping down every hard surface in the room. It was grueling work. After removing the dust, he changed the bed sheets and gathered up the rugs so he could beat them outside. Arthur's back ached and his stomach growled as he stepped into the sun but he knew he couldn't take a break if he was to get everything done before the evening. Grunting under his heavy load, he passed the knights and soldiers practicing in the field, wishing that he was with them instead of hauling around dirty laundry.

"Hey, Wart!" Kay called, waving his hand in greeting.

Arthur grumbled under his breath as he watched him leave the other knights and head his way.

"Hello," he muttered, reluctantly acknowledging the redhead.

"Need a hand?"

"I think I've got – _Oof!"_

The next thing he knew, he was prying himself off the grass. Red-faced and humiliated from tripping over_ nothing_, Arthur listened to the other men laughing at his predicament and wished a hole would appear in the earth and swallow him. It didn't help that Kay was laughing too.

_Oh, if these men knew who he really was…!_

"Are you alright?" Kay asked, watching in amusement as Arthur started gathering up the rugs.

"Fine. Wonderful."

"Hey, Wart, don't be like that."

Arthur couldn't help it; he slapped Kay's helping hand away and snarled, _"Don't!"_

"What is wrong with you?" Kay demanded, angrily.

"_Nothing_; I've got work to do."

And without waiting to be dismissed, Arthur left, partially dragging the rugs across the grass behind him.

He immediately regretted treating Kay so rudely but he couldn't help it. He was frustrated, angry, and miserable. He wanted to go home. He hated being here, trapped in this body, being treated like some insignificant drudge! He was a statesman – a _king!_ Not some washed-out serf!

Throwing the rugs over a rope tied between two trees for various laundry tasks, Arthur grabbed a nearby stick and started beating the thick fabric as fiercely as he could. His irritation manifest in tears – another stupid side-effect of this weak body – and increased his anger and frustration tenfold.

"My, you are in a cheerful mood, aren't you?"

Arthur nearly dropped his stick he was startled so badly. Craning his neck upwards, he quickly recognized the woman who had bestowed his current misfortune lounging on a branch of the nearest tree.

"YOU!" he snarled, thrusting the stick upward like a sword. "What are you doing here?"

The witch gracefully leapt down from her branch, landing softly on the grass. As she smoothed out her dress, Arthur quickly wiped the tears from his cheeks and hoped she hadn't noticed them.

"If you must know, I'm checking in," she answered. "How fair's our little king in his new station?"

"Shut up!"

The sorceress grinned. "That well? I expected as much."

"You think this is a game? Release me!"

"No."

Arthur threw his stick away, screaming in frustration. "Do you have any idea how humiliating this is? To be transformed into a boy and forced to do manual labor like a commoner?"

"Apparently you still need more time adjusting," she replied without sympathy.

"I don't need any _adjusting!_ What I _need_ is to be returned to my true self so I can return to ruling Camelot!"

"Your queen and Emrys are managing just fine."

"And how do you know that?"

"I've been keeping an eye on them," the witch casually revealed.

Fear for his loved ones spurred Arthur into action. Stepping forward, he snarled, "If you harm them –"

"Relax, Pendragon. I have no intentions of hurting either of them," the sorceress said, rolling her eyes.

Arthur paused, studying her intently. "Then what are your intentions?"

"Towards them?" – The woman shrugged – "None. Well, none except having them manage without you. But don't worry; everything is progressing _beautifully_. Just focus on being a good little serving boy and the rest will run its course."

"Tell me what you're planning, witch!" Arthur demanded, wishing he hadn't tossed his stick out of reach.

The sorceress's grin was large and sent a shiver of uncertainty down his spine as she answered, "It's nothing you need worry over, Arthur. Now, you might want to be nicer to Kay. He's only trying to look out for you."

"I know that!" he snapped, his face turning red again.

She laughed. "What an adorable reaction! Showing feelings more openly through emotion is refreshing, wouldn't you agree?"

"No, I would not! It's entirely degrading!"

Still smiling, the woman shook her head. "You still have so much to learn." After a pause, her expression sobered. "Arthur, don't let your frustration towards me push you away from Kay. He is a friend you sorely need."

"Friend? He's barely spoken to me since the day we met!"

"Are you certain?"

"He might have reached out a couple times but I'm too busy cleaning to waste time chatting," he retorted, sending her an accusatory glare. "Besides, he's a noble and I'm –"

"What? A servant?" she challenged. "That never stopped Emrys."

"Well, I'm not Merlin!" Arthur snapped, twisting away from her to look back at the field where the men were training. "I'm not…"

"As strong as he is," she finished. Arthur didn't answer. Sighing, the sorceress rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You are more than you believe yourself to be, Arthur. These past two weeks you've been able to get a glimpse of the life Emrys used to live for you. As the days continue you will discover what he discovered as a servant."

"And what was that?"

"Something that will change your life forever," she whispered gently, letting go of his shoulder.

A sudden breeze ruffled his hair and, when Arthur turned around, she was gone.

Confused and angry, the king retrieved his stick and returned to the rugs, beating them harder than he probably needed to.

[][][]

Lord Carlton arrived shortly after sunset and everyone in the manner was scuttling about, the servants trying to avoid Brom's stick and complete their assignments while the nobles met in the drawing room. Arthur was busy with the task of hauling the lord's possessions upstairs. He'd already made three trips. The man was only staying a few days but he'd packed enough to be away from home for weeks. Arthur couldn't understand why anyone would need so much luggage. Grimacing over the pain in his back, the king finally managed to haul everything into the nobleman's chambers an hour later. Now, per Lord Carlton's request, he had to unpack everything.

"When I return to Camelot, I'm giving Merlin a raise," he muttered as he filled the wardrobe with Lord Carlton's clothes.

While it was true he'd already given Merlin a substantial raise after becoming Court Sorcerer and First Advisor to the King, it seemed only fair to give him another one now that Arthur knew the exact torture he'd forced on his former manservant.

It took another hour for him to completely unpack and arrange the room with Lord Carlton's effects. Turning down the covers of the bed, the king fluffed the pillows and stepped back, surveying his work. Nodding in satisfaction, he stretched and felt his muscles temporarily seize before relaxing again. His stomach growled and he remembered he hadn't eaten all day. It was somewhat humorous that weeks ago he was living off three hearty meals a day; now he was lucky to get two meals not even equivalent to a single one fit for a king.

The door opened and Arthur turned to greet Lord Carlton. The older man looked at him curiously, eyeing him up and down before crossing the room towards his dressing screen.

"Pour me a glass of water, boy," he commanded as he changed into his night clothes.

Upset that he wasn't merely dismissed, Arthur did as asked. It took another twenty minutes after that before Lord Carlton finally let him go, having required that he open the window, pour another glass of water, scrub down his boots, and gather the day's laundry.

"I want you back here two hours after dawn with my breakfast."

"Yes, sir," Arthur said, trying not to show his fatigue.

The second the door was closed, the king's shoulders sagged and he rubbed his eyes.

Carrying the clothes down to his room, he dumped them on the floor before heading for the kitchen to see what scraps were left for him to eat. Gretchen had already cleaned up for the evening but Arthur managed to find a couple of rolls and a small bit of cheese in one of her many cupboards. After gobbling down his scanty meal, he ignored the way his stomach continued to growl and returned to his room.

Trying not to think about Adrian's demise, the king kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto his bed. Exhausted both emotionally and physically, he soon succumbed to the land of dreams, not at all looking forward to the morrow.


	6. Chapter 6

**Many thanks to the few who reviewed last chapter. And to the guest reviews I couldn't respond to: thank you very much!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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Chapter 06

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Merlin was beyond nervous. Ten royal families were currently residing within Camelot's walls and it was his responsibility to make sure none of them tried to kill each other in Arthur's absence. Most of the kings he'd met in the past had treated him with caution and veiled distain when they arrived, wary because the insignificant manservant they remembered was now the most powerful warlock on earth as well as Camelot's Court Sorcerer and First Advisor to the King.

Honestly the biggest highlight for Merlin had been when Princess Vivian had tried to attack Gwen in a jealous rage the moment she saw her. As Olaf's knights removed the princess, the king begged Merlin to eradicate the love spell that had plagued his daughter for years.

"I'm sorry but not even my magic can break such a spell," he said reluctantly.

"Did you not free Arthur from it?" Olaf demanded.

"No. I had to get Gwen to kiss him. That's the only thing that will work: true love's kiss."

Olaf stared. "You're joking."

"Not in the least, I'm afraid."

Olaf looked as if someone had died but then he perked up. "Is there a spell that can find one's true love?"

Merlin frowned. "I've never come across one." Olaf's shoulders sagged again. Out of pity, Merlin added, "But magic can do incredible things. I could do some research and let you know what I find."

"Thank you," he said sincerely. "Until then, you might want to consider extra protection for your queen. I once caught Vivian trying to hire an assassin to kill her shortly after we received the news that Arthur had wed."

Disturbed by this information, Merlin glanced at Leon who had heard every word. The First Knight nodded discreetly and whispered to Elyan who automatically moved nearer to Gwen as the queen greeted Queen Annis.

Now everyone was safely settled and Merlin was left with a couple of minutes to himself. Part of him wished for the good old days when he was a mere servant and could blend into the background. Now he had to juggle politics. Groaning wearily, he rubbed his eyes and slumped onto his bed. He could just hear Arthur laughing at him.

"Prat's never around when you need him," the warlock grumbled. There was a sudden knock on the door. "Come in."

"Merlin?"

"In here, Gwaine."

He listened to Gwaine's footfalls as his boots lightly tapped across the floor, heading for his bedroom.

"You okay, mate?" he asked, stopping in the doorway.

"No, but when am I ever?" Merlin sighed, sitting up. Noticing his friend's concern, he gave some reassurance. "I'm just stressed, Gwaine; it's nothing to worry about."

The rogue knight grinned, patting Merlin consoling on the shoulder, "It's a big job, dealing with so many snobs at once."

"They're not all bad."

"I suppose some of them have redeemable qualities. Still, I would have preferred princess deal with them instead of you. You worry yourself enough on a regular basis. All this added stress is going to make your hair turn gray."

"I'm glad to see you're concerned about my good looks," Merlin chuckled.

Gwaine shrugged. "Someone's got to be until we find you a woman."

Not this again.

Ever since Arthur and Gwen had gotten married the knights had started meddling with Merlin's love life. They were bound and determined to find a match for him and when Arthur got wind of their schemes he'd happily joined in. None of their attempts had worked so far and Merlin didn't think they ever would. In reality, was there even a girl out there that would look past the "most powerful sorcerer of all time" label and appreciate him for who he truly was? Well, Freya had been such a girl but she was unattainable now. If there was someone else, Merlin didn't think he'd ever find her.

"What are you doing here, Gwaine?" he asked, rubbing his eyes once more.

"I thought you could use some good company since you've had to put on a face all day."

"Thanks," he said appreciatively before standing up. "But I'm afraid I have a war meeting in a few minutes and if I don't get going I'm going to be late."

"It wouldn't be the first time."

"No," Merlin agreed with a grin, "but I can't leave Gwen to fight off those wolves alone. Plus Prince Grayson and Prince Agron are the first royals from their lands to visit Camelot in years and I'd hate to create negative impressions when we really need to establish good relations with them."

"Right, Prince Proper from Kent," Gwaine smirked. "I met him once, you know. He's more prattish than Arthur and that's saying something."

"I'll be the judge of that," Merlin laughed as they left his chambers. "What about Prince Agron?"

"I've been to Tir Mor but I've never come across it's prince until today," Gwaine confessed as the two headed for the council chambers. "He seemed a bit shy, honestly. I'm not sure he's going to put up a great defense if anyone tries to attack him; odd, since I hear his father, King Eldol, has an iron will."

"Maybe he's a wolf in sheep's clothing?" Merlin mused.

"He's going to need to be if he's to survive this rabble."

"Keep an eye on Gwen," Merlin whispered once they reached his destination. "If anything happens to her, Arthur will kill us all."

Gwaine nodded in agreement before leaving Merlin and continuing down the hall. Entering the council chambers, the Court Sorcerer found Gwen and made his way towards where she stood in conversation with King Rodor.

"I still can't believe you kept your son a secret all these years," the queen was saying as Merlin approached.

"Well, it was either that or have Uther try to kill him," Rodor replied. "With Camelot no longer hunting sorcerers, my son no longer needs to be in exile."

"Merlin," Gwen smiled when she saw him, "there you are."

"Forgive the interruption," he said before inclining his head to Nemeth's king. "King Rodor, it's nice to meet you. Welcome to Camelot."

"Thank you," the king replied with gratitude. "My son, Marcus, was in exile in Helva but thanks to you he is able to come home at last. For over twenty years he studied magic under various teachers, the Catha included. One of his teachers, Alator, spoke very highly of you. It is an honor to finally meet you, Merlin Emrys."

Merlin shuffled his feet sheepishly from the praise. "Thank you, sire. Alator is a good man."

"As are you, Merlin."

The warlock jumped and spun around.

"Princess Mithian," he hastily acknowledged, noticing right away that she was just as lovely as he remembered her to be. "I'm surprised to see you here."

Dressed in a gown of forest green, Nemeth's princess smiled warmly at Merlin as he unconsciously straightened his neckerchief.

"It's been a few years," she said, "Are you not pleased to see me?"

"No – I mean – _yes_ – that is – I wasn't expecting to see you _here_ – in Camelot, I mean. I thought you would have remained in Nemeth."

"Marcus is managing the kingdom," she explained, "And I felt I'd be more useful at my father's side than back at home. It's good to see you."

"And you," Merlin sincerely replied. "How are you?"

"Well," she answered, her brown eyes observing him, "As you seem to be."

"I am," Merlin quickly confirmed.

"I'm glad Arthur finally promoted you to a worthy position. Even in the short time I was here I knew he valued your counsel above all others. Queen Guinevere, it is a pleasure to meet you as well. I can see why Arthur values you so much."

"Thank you," said Gwen with some surprise; Arthur had rejected this woman because of her after all. She and Merlin had been afraid the princess and her father would hold some sort of grudge but neither displayed such disdain.

"Speaking of, where is Arthur?" Rodor asked, looking around. "He was not there to greet us yesterday and I did not see him at all this morning. Is he unwell?"

"You aren't the first to ask but I promise Arthur's absence will be addressed once the council meeting starts," Gwen assured.

"We just hope he's alright," said Mithian.

Neither Gwen nor Merlin could give an answer. Deciding to end the conversation, the queen glanced around and decided to start the meeting. Merlin sat in his usual chair next to Arthur's empty one and, to his surprise, Mithian sat down next to him.

"I hope you don't mind," she said.

"Not at all," Merlin nervously replied, somewhat confused by her choice. He hadn't been very nice to her last they met; he'd seen her as an obstacle threatening Gwen and Arthur's fate to marry and subtly tried several times to thwart her courtship with the king.

"My lords and ladies, despite these grave circumstances, once again we welcome you to Camelot," Gwen began, gaining Merlin's attention. "Many of you have inquired as to the whereabouts of my husband, King Arthur. All I can disclose is that Arthur is away on a pressing mission that, in its own way, will provide aid to our cause in stopping the Sarrum of Amata from invading other kingdoms. In his absence, Merlin and I will represent Camelot in this war council."

And so it began. King Bayard's son, Edmund, gave an account of everything they knew about the invasion on Essetir. The most disturbing news came when Morgana was mentioned as one of the Sarrum's accomplices.

Merlin frowned. "If what you say is true, why are they directing their army towards Mercia instead of Camelot?"

"Are you arrogant enough to believe conquering your kingdom will bring more wealth than mine?" Edmund demanded.

"No," he calmly replied, "I'm merely surprised since, in the past, Morgana's goal has always been to destroy Camelot once she's gained an army."

"Merlin does have a point," Queen Annis interjected. "I, myself, have been used in such a manner by the witch. Her vengeance towards Camelot is deeper than any other grudge she may hold to other kingdoms."

"Well, _we_ have never dealt with her before," said Edmund.

"Which is why Merlin and I are both confused as to why she is attacking Mercia instead of marching through Essetir towards us," Gwen returned.

"What I want to know is why she is with the Sarrum at all," Odin mused. "I thought he hated magic more than Uther."

"That is true," Godwyn rejoined, his brow creased with worry. "Perhaps Morgana offered him something he couldn't refuse?"

"I don't think so," said Odin. "If anything, I think she's enchanted him to do her bidding."

"But we know she alone is not in charge of the army," King Rodor pointed out.

"Yes," interjected Prince Grayson, "From what Prince Edmund tells us, this Morgana is only working alongside the Sarrum and the Saxons. While it might be true that she has enchanted the Sarrum, I personally believe he and the Saxon leader, Morgoth, are the ones heading this attack."

"I agree," said King Olaf.

"But is it possible to enchant someone like that?" asked Mithian, turning to Merlin.

"It is," Merlin said, uncomfortably aware that everyone was now staring at him, "but it would be very draining on the individual to keep such a strong spell maintained for so long. While you say that the Sarrum hates magic, I have seen firsthand how men can change their opinions if they can profit from it. Perhaps this is the Sarrum's case?"

"Perhaps," Gwen muttered before calling across the table, "Prince Agron?"

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"Besides Mercia and Essetir, your kingdom borders that of the Sarrum's. What is your opinion concerning his motives?"

Prince Agron shyly looked at the other members of the council before quietly answering, "The Sarrum is a ruthless man who loves war and bloodshed but my father and I believe he wouldn't have tried to invade Essetir if he hadn't had the backing of the Saxons. Once given that, nothing would have stopped him from declaring war. And if a powerful sorceress has joined their efforts, I feel that it would be the Saxons who asked her to accompany them instead of the Sarrum.

"What Odin said is true; the Sarrum hates magic more than anything. I believe the only way he gained an alliance with the Saxons was by accepting and tolerating the alliance they had already made with the witch. Concerning why he's traveling towards Mercia instead of Camelot: no offense to you, Prince Edmund, but, out of the two kingdoms, Mercia is weaker and therefore an easier target."

It was a very bold thing to say even if it were true. Prince Edmund's face turned the color of puce while King Odin and Alined tried unsuccessfully to cough away their snickers. Merlin made a note to tell Gwaine that the Tir Mor prince wasn't so timid after all.

"Thank you for your insight, Prince Agron," said Gwen. Prince Edmund harrumphed in his chair but otherwise said nothing. "I can confirm that our scouts have reported the same thing as Prince Edmund concerning the enemy's movements. Therefore I put forth the suggestion that we –"

But whatever Gwen was going to say was interrupted as the doors burst open revealing a rather winded knight.

"Sir Cador!" Gwen cried in outrage, "What is the meaning of this?"

"Forgive the intrusion, My Lady," he rasped, "but King Lot has just arrived with an arrow in his back."

"Is he alive?" Gwen demanded over the cries of shock and outrage from the other royals.

"For now, yes," Cador confirmed, "but, My Lady, he brings grave news. Essetir is lost."

There was a moment in which nobody moved and then Prince Edmund stood, slightly panicked.

"What of my father and his forces?"

"I'm sorry, sire," Cador said regretfully, "King Lot said nothing more than the state of his kingdom before collapsing."

"I must leave for Mercia at once."

"Hang on," Merlin called, halting the prince's frantic steps. "I may be able to scry his location. Do you have something of his?"

With shaking fingers, Prince Edmund presented a dagger. "He gave it to me before I left."

Taking the dagger, Merlin demanded a bowl of water be brought. A servant fetched one straight away and everyone watched as the warlock set to work. Scrying was a difficult form of magic for Merlin on his best day so being surrounded by a gathering of very agitated royals was not helping his concentration. Forcing his emotions aside so he could clear his mind, Merlin took a few deep breaths and focused just on his magic, feeling the familiar thrum of warmth flowing within his veins. His senses then spread outward, reaching and connecting with anything magical around him, filling him with tranquility. Once in this realm, he whispered the required spell and opened his eyes, focusing on the water in front of him. The surface rippled and the image of a forest appeared, filled with fleeing soldiers sporting Mercia's colors. Merlin searched for the king, finding him in the midst of his men, dodging arrows in a frantic retreat.

"He's alive," Merlin muttered.

"Where is he?" Edmund asked desperately.

"In the woods, with his men. They're fleeing from the Sarrum's armies."

"I must go to him at once."

"Prince Edmund, you would do your father a disservice if you left now," said Queen Annis, gently grabbing his arm. "Though in retreat, your father is with his men. They will protect him. Bayard needs you here to represent him and your kingdom. You must help us come up with a plan and we must conceive one quickly to prevent Mercia falling to the same fate as Essetir."

For a moment the prince looked like he was going to protest but then he fell back in his chair, consenting with a miserable nod.

Though it would take a great amount of energy, Merlin didn't want Prince Edmund to lose his father to a Saxon's arrow; the news would crush the prince and they needed Mercia to remain on stable ground with the Sarrum attacking it next. After whispering a protection spell and projecting it towards Bayard, Merlin slumped in his chair, ending the scrying spell.

"Merlin," Mithian inquired, "Are you alright?"

"M'fine," he mumbled.

"What did you just do?" demanded Gwen.

"Protection spell on Bayard; it'll last until he gets to safety."

Prince Edmund looked at him with surprise before muttering in mild bewilderment, "Thank you."

Merlin nodded and turned back to Gwen. "If we're to help Mercia we need to reach out to the Sarrum and see if he is willing to meet us at a specific location. I would suggest somewhere in Mercia but near enough to Camelot's borders that we can cut the Sarrum off from invading our lands. We should also dispatch a smaller army of forces to defend the borders we share with Essetir. King Rodor, Prince Agron, and Prince Grayson might want to do the same with their kingdoms."

"A wise idea," Queen Annis praised.

"We'll send out riders at once," said Prince Grayson while Rodor and Agron nodded in agreement.

Gwen then ordered a map to be brought and, after some debate, it was decided that they would gather their troops on the Plains of Othanden. Normally it would have taken weeks to amass all the soldiers of each kingdom but thanks to a form of magical transport Merlin had discovered, each army merely had to walk through a doorway that would appear in a specific location within their kingdoms, immediately taking them to Othanden's plains. Merlin promised to activate the magical doorways in one week's time at high noon, pointing out on the map where each sovereign had to accumulate their troops.

"You'll have an hour to get everyone through," he said.

"And you're sure these doorways will work?" King Alined asked skeptically.

"They will since I already placed them there myself," Merlin stated. "I just have to set the location and the time – which can be done with very little effort."

With slight disapproval, Godwyn chastened, "You've been inviting yourself into our lands and magicking up doorways at your leisure? You do know that's trespassing."

Merlin sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. "I felt it necessary in case something like this occurred. Which it has, so, you're welcome."

"We didn't thank you!" King Olaf snapped, incensed. "This is an outrage! You think that because you are some all-powerful magician that you can just mosey around our lands and cast spells wherever you please?"

"Forgive me for trying to be prepared!" Merlin retorted. "I figured that since all of you are allies of Camelot it wouldn't cause offense."

"I'm not an ally," Odin countered.

"Then why did you come?" demanded the warlock.

"Currently I don't believe the Sarrum will win against your combined forces and I figured it wouldn't hurt to align myself with the army that has the most sporting chance."

"So you're saying that if it looks like the battle is turning in the Sarrum's favor, you'll turn around and stab us in the back?" Mithian raged, her hands balling into fists.

Odin grinned. "Is that wrong?"

"_Yes!_ On so many levels!" Merlin snapped. "But we don't have time to work out any other logistics. If you choose to fight, have your army at your doorway at noon a week from today. And if you do decide to fight against us, Odin, remember that I am a dragonlord and will not hesitate to have The Great Dragon Kilgarrah find you and end you in the most painful way possible."

Odin tried not to be cowed by such a threat but his face paled nonetheless.

"Right, now that we have that out of the way," Gwen cleared her throat, "Merlin will transport you all back to your kingdoms tomorrow so you can properly prepare. Let us pray that our combined efforts will stop this threat before it can decimate all we hold dear."

The meeting now over, the royals took their leave, some leaving faster than others. Merlin slumped in his chair and held his head in his hands, utterly exhausted.

"Merlin?"

The warlock jumped, looking up through his fingers to find Mithian still next to him, her brown eyes filled with concern.

"Princess, did you need something?"

"You look exhausted. That spell took more out of you than the others realize, didn't it?"

Merlin stared. He thought he'd done a good job hiding it; apparently not.

"It did," he reluctantly admitted.

"You should rest then. Much is going to be required of you tomorrow. I'd rather not learn you collapsed on my account."

"If that happens, it won't be just on yours," he pointed out.

"Nonetheless, I would have played a part and for that I would feel guilty if it brought you pain. Take care of yourself, please. We need you."

She then sent him a kind smile and left. Merlin stared after her, feeling slightly confused, exhausted, and in dire need of sleep. It was only a minute later that Gwen descended and basically ordered him to bed, she also having picked up on his fatigue.

"And you had better sleep, Merlin, or I'll send for Gaius!" the queen warned as she watched him go.

"Don't worry," Merlin assured with a tired smile, "sleeping is one command I'm more than happy to consent to at the moment."

As he left, he heard Gwen ordering Sir Leon to send riders to every village, demanding the knights at the outposts to return to the capital with all due speed.

"Have the lords defend the borders with their soldiers but send the knights to us. We're going to need all the help we can get."

Merlin couldn't agree more. He glanced back at Arthur's empty chair.

"We need you, Arthur," he murmured. "Please return soon."

Then he turned and left, seeking the comfort of his bed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you very much for your reviews. Even I feel bad for Arthur in this one... poor guy. Just, don't hate me, guys. *runs away looking for a shield* **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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**Chapter 07**

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"So, Carlton, what brings you to Nemeton this time?" Lord Ector asked while cutting a large slice of ham on his plate.

"We never got around to discussing that last night, did we?" Lord Carlton mused, gesturing for Arthur to fill his cup.

Fighting a yawn, Arthur stepped forward with the pitcher, praying that he wouldn't spill as he poured. He'd been up since dawn, having gained very little sleep and a much smaller breakfast than the one the nobles were currently enjoying.

"A rider from Camelot arrived at my estate a few days ago. Queen Guinevere has requested our soldiers to increase their vigilance concerning the borders we share with Essetir. Word has it Sarrum of Amata invaded Essetir with an army. I told the rider I would pass on the message to you."

"And you waited until morning to mention this?" Kay demanded as Arthur glared at the visiting lord with equal annoyance.

"Peace, Kay," Lord Ector gently admonished before immediately turning to a guard at the door. "Send word to Sir Aram to double the guard and closely patrol the border."

"Yes sir," he bowed before leaving with haste.

Arthur looked on Ector with appreciation and approval, having no fears that an enemy would slip into Camelot through this part of the land. Still, the news worried him. He was proud of Guinevere for being cautious but he was also frustrated he was stuck here, unable to do anything. Frowning, he nearly missed Lord Carlton's prompting for his glass to be refilled.

"Forgive me, Ector," he said as Arthur poured, "due to my late arrival I was not of sound mind."

Arthur hid a snort. Not of sound mind indeed! The man was more concerned about depleting Lord Ector's wine cellar than Camelot's safety! Kay glanced at him warningly before returning his silent glare at their visitor.

"All is forgiven," Lord Ector politely obliged before sternly adding, "Although I should hope that in the future, commands from our sovereigns will be discussed immediately, Carlton. One would not want our Royal Highnesses to hear that their orders concerning the safety of our lands were not being taken seriously. The consequences for such withholders of information would merit quite the punishment, I should think."

"Of course," Lord Carlton agreed before hastily taking a sip from his cup to conceal his embarrassment.

Arthur and Kay looked on Lord Ector with pride, the former doing very little to hide his satisfied smirk. Lord Ector winked at him and Arthur's smile grew before he schooled his features into solemnity. The lord's eyes twinkled humorously while Kay huffed under his breath at their interaction.

The rest of breakfast then passed discussing more mundane things and Arthur was dismissed to attend to Lord Carlton's horses.

When he arrived, the stables smelt awful. A pile of equestrian waste was gathered in the corner, baking in the late morning heat. Grabbing a brush near the door, Arthur set to work combing each horse's mane, tail, and coat, gagging every once in a while over the smell. Two other servants, Lillian and Henry, were tending to the other steeds.

"Did Lord Carlton share anything interesting this morning, Wart?" Henry asked as he held a pail of water up for Kay's horse to drink.

Typical conversation starter; all that the servants seemed to want to do in this manor was exchange the latest gossip.

Arthur shrugged as he worked. "Possibly."

"Come on then," Lillian encouraged, "tell us."

"I don't think I will."

"If you don't, we'll just ask Will."

Oh yes, _Will_; Lord Ector's manservant who was more than happy to exchange his knowledge for favors. The man got out of doing half his chores because the other servants couldn't simply mind their own business. Arthur shouldn't be surprised since any gossip concerning Lord Ector's dealings was considered the most entertaining to share. Although… maybe it wouldn't hurt to take a leaf out of Will's book for once?

"If I tell you, will you finish my stable duties?"

"Yes," Lillian declared while Henry instantly nodded.

Arthur inwardly smirked in triumph and threw the brush at Henry who caught it eagerly.

"If you must know, Sarrum of Amata has invaded Essetir and Queen Guinevere has ordered all lords who share borders with the kingdom to tighten their security."

"The queen gave the order? Why didn't King Arthur?" Henry wondered.

Arthur shrugged awkwardly. "Maybe he's out on a patrol or something."

"If we're tightening security, are we in danger?" asked Lillian.

Arthur shook his head. "I think it's just a safety precaution. Camelot is the strongest of the kingdoms. The Sarrum isn't about to get through our borders."

"He could if he had sorcery," Henry pointed out.

"Not if Merlin stepped in to stop him – which he would."

"Merlin? You mean _Lord_ Merlin?" Lillian clarified. "The new Court Sorcerer?"

"Yeah," Arthur said, mentally slapping himself for not tagging on Merlin's new title. A servant shouldn't be so casual about such things!

"Did you know him from your time in Camelot?" Henry asked.

Arthur looked away, clearing his throat. "I met him once or twice."

"Is he… scary?"

"What? Of course not!" Arthur laughed over the absurdity of Lillian's question. "He's about as terrifying as a daffodil."

"Oh," Lillian breathed, "good."

Arthur frowned. "I thought you weren't afraid of magic."

"We're not," Henry assured. "Master Kay is a sorcerer."

"But he's not powerful like Lord Merlin is rumored to be," Lillian argued.

"Kay is pretty powerful from what I've seen," Arthur countered, "And I've seen my fair share of sorcerers. I believe he could hold his own if he needed to. But you're right; he's nothing compared to Mer – I mean – Lord Merlin."

"That's what unnerves me," Lillian muttered. "Someone with that much power… how do we know we can trust him?"

"King Arthur seems to," Arthur said, somewhat defensively.

"But how can we know Lord Merlin isn't the reason for that?" Henry interjected. "He could have cast a spell that clouded the king's judgment."

"Merlin would never do that!"

"How do you know, Wart?" Lillian demanded. "You've only met him a couple times."

"I just know!" Arthur retorted angrily. "You shouldn't judge someone based off what you hear! Merlin is the greatest man I've ever met and I refuse to stand here any longer listening to you two insult him!"

The king quickly dismissed himself and stormed from the stables, leaving Lillian and Henry staring after him in confusion.

Finding some nearby shrubbery, Arthur hid himself and sniffled, angrily wiping his nose and eyes.

Stupid loose tear ducts! He was _not_ missing Merlin. He _wasn't! _And who were those two idiots, thinking they could judge him like that? Merlin wasn't evil! How dare they? They had no idea what he had been through – what he was _still_ going through! The idiot still thought himself a monster sometimes. What kind of person would think him dangerous knowing that? Stupid, narrow-minded cabbageheads, the lot of them! Arthur was sick and tired of people misjudging his best friend. Merlin would never use his magic to hurt him. Couldn't they see that?!

Sniffling further, Arthur focused on gathering his emotions and forced Merlin from his mind. The separation wasn't helping him on any level and he was fed up with displaying his feelings this way. It was undignified!

A few minutes passed before he successfully regained control and left the shrubs in search of a barrel of cold water. Finding one on the edge of the training field, he splashed his face several times to cool his heated cheeks. Only after that did Arthur deem himself worthy enough to reenter the manor. He had the rest of the day to himself and he wasn't about to waste it acting like a girl. For once he was going to eat a decent meal and take a nice long nap!

Hastening to the kitchen, he snatched up some bread, meat, and cheese before Gertrude could make a playful swat at him and headed for his room. Once there, he munched happily on his food while thinking over the possible dangers Camelot now faced – certainly a more practical thought than pining for Merlin's idiotic companionship, he silently huffed.

With the Sarrum invading, Arthur was sure the allies would have gathered to discuss further invasion. He wondered if Merlin had already performed any magic to prevent the borders from falling. While he knew the soldiers across his eastern lands were stronger than others – due to more hostile relations between those kingdoms – he would still want extra protection; especially if a man as ruthless as the Sarrum were on the move.

Once again he wished he was in Camelot instead of kowtowing to Lord Carlton's demands. His people were in danger and he was stuck here playing the role of a servant! Frustrated (but mostly tired) the king flopped back on his bed and eventually fell asleep.

[][][]

A fierce pounding woke Arthur several hours later, the deep voice of Brom threatening to tan his hide before the man himself forced the door open. Arthur sat bolt upright, fear filling him as Brom approached with his stick.

"What the devil do you mean by it, boy?" he bellowed. "Skiving off on duties specifically given to you by Lord Carlton?"

"I'm sorry," Arthur began.

"Dinner is about to be served!" Brom interrupted. "If you're not in the kitchen in the next two minutes, you'll be wishing you'd never met me! Now, off with you!"

Arthur bolted but not before receiving a stern whack on his backside by Brom's stick. The mark stung something fierce but Arthur's pace didn't falter. Regretting his earlier decision and cursing his stupidity, he rushed into the kitchen a minute later, red-faced and heaving for air.

"There you are!" Gertrude snapped, shoving a loaded plate in his hands. "Best hurry, Wart! Will already came, claiming Lord Ector and Master Kay's food!"

"I know, I know," Arthur huffed.

Having a guest served last was incredibly insulting and Arthur would face the fullness of Brom's wrath if Will beat him to the dining chamber. Without another word, he raced back down the hall and around the corner, spotting Will waiting impatiently at the end by the servant's door.

"Hurry up, will you?" he called.

"Sorry," Arthur murmured, silently conveying gratitude that he'd waited.

"Don't be sorry, just get in there!" Will snapped, shoving him forward.

Arthur had hoped the evening would get better after his disastrous wake-up call but it only grew worse.

Halfway through dinner a bone-weary messenger from Camelot arrived, declaring Essetir lost and Mercia threatened. Camelot and its allies were to gather at the Plains of Othanden in one week's time, requiring all knights to return to the capital city immediately. Lord Ector dismissed the knights to prepare for departure at first light at once, asking Kay to go with them to offer his services to the king. He then ordered his captain to make sure the guards across the border were doubling their efforts to keep the land safe. Lord Carlton declared he would leave for his estate tomorrow to issue the same orders thus resulting in Arthur finding himself an hour later packing everything he'd unpacked the day before.

Frustrated and worried over the whole situation, the king heard the door close behind him but didn't think anything of it; he figured it was just another servant coming to help. He was therefore unprepared when a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders and a cloth was forced against his mouth. Arthur instinctively inhaled and immediately regretted it as the cloth's contents began to cloud his brain. He struggled feebly, his weak body no match for the strong pair of hands pinning him in place. Soon his brain fogged completely, his vision fading as his limbs lost all control.

[][][]

He woke disoriented, his eyes blinking slowly as he tried to make sense of why he was on his back. Groaning, he sluggishly looked around until a dark shape loomed over him.

"Shhh," someone cooed, their voice deep and husky.

A thumb brushed against Arthur's cheek resulting in a shudder. "W-What's going on?" he slurred.

"I'm afraid I was a little too hasty with the drugs," his captor said apologetically, "but it shouldn't take long for you to regain your senses. I confess I find things more enjoyable when my servants are more _aware."_

Arthur tried to rub his head but found his hands restrained. Confused, he looked up. His wrists were bound together by a thick rope tied to a chain looped around two bed posts. Terror filled his heart as he frantically searched for his captor and his heart pounded like a frightened deer when his eyes finally focused on Lord Carlton. The visiting lord stared down at his weakened form, his pupils dark and mad with lust, a small, triumphant smirk on his lips.

"Release me!" Arthur commanded though it came out more like a rasp, his throat sore from the drug.

"High-spirited, aren't you?" Lord Carlton smirked as he ran his fingers possessively through Arthur's hair. "I like that."

"Don't touch me!" Arthur squirmed, attempting to kick but finding his ankles also bound, each to a post at the end of the bed, leaving him dangerously spread-eagled.

He was trapped!

"A fighter too!" Lord Carlton praised before he quickly took a dagger from his belt and sliced Arthur's tunic open, exposing his chest.

Arthur's lungs heaved as he uselessly squirmed. This couldn't be happening! He was the _king!_ Such forced desecration on anyone was against the laws of Camelot. Lord Carlton couldn't do this. He _couldn't!_

"You can't," Arthur cried as the lord's cold fingers defiled his skin, his hands exploring the exposed flesh with misplaced possession.

Lord Carlton bent forward, his lips gracing Arthur's ear as he muttered, "But I _can_."

"No!" Arthur yelped as the lord settled fully on the bed, straddling him.

Lord Carlton's finger then pressed to his lips and Arthur did the only thing he could; he bit him. Lord Carlton howled, yanking his finger free. He then smacked the side of Arthur's head so hard that it left stars in the king's eyes. Tears that had before clouded his vision now fell freely as Arthur uselessly squirmed for the freedom he knew he wouldn't gain.

"You little maggot!" Lord Carlton seethed, grabbing Arthur's hair and yanking it forcefully back, exposing his neck. "You will _never_ do that to me again! Is that clear?"

The pain doubled and Arthur yelped again. "Argh! Yes. Yes!"

Lord Carlton immediately let go, his demeanor changing drastically as he pet Arthur's head, cooing an apology and then further nonsense words of comfort.

Normally the king would have bottled up the raging emotions he was currently feeling but, thanks to this pathetic bodily prison from the witch, they manifest themselves in undignified sobs. His fear, helplessness, and anger came in heaving gasps and unrelenting tears and he would have screamed if his throat wasn't still raw from the drug.

Arthur knew what was about to happen but it was all so wrong! The forceful hands, the heavy weight crushing him from above; it wasn't right. It was _corrupt._ There was a lack of smooth, soft, and gentle – an absence of the scent of lavender and the feeling of love.

He was trapped in Hell with no sign of Heaven's light.

"I usually get to know my servants before bedding them," Lord Carlton muttered as he began fiddling with the strings of his breeches, "but I must return to my estate tomorrow. I was so sorry to hear of Adrian's passing but the gods blessed me with an even greater supplement: _you._"

"You can't do this to me!" Arthur cried, wiggling desperately, hopelessly, beneath him. "_Stop!_ I'll tell Lord Ector!"

Lord Carlton's dagger suddenly rested against Arthur's lips, the madman leaning close enough the king could smell his putrid breath.

"We can't allow that," he whispered. "Swear an oath to me that you will never expose this or I will cut out your tongue."

And he would. Arthur could see that. But how could he give such an oath? He shook his head defiantly. This man did not own him and he never would.

Lord Carlton's eyes flashed dangerously and he removed the dagger. "Very well."

The king started to relax but then, like a cobra, Lord Carlton struck, forcing his mouth open and snatching his tongue mercilessly between his fingers. He then picked up the dagger and Arthur's eyes widened in horror as he saw the metal flash –

"_WAAT!"_ he cried, tears falling anew down his face.

Lord Carlton paused, raising one eyebrow questioningly. "You comply?"

Arthur closed his eyes and nodded, hating himself. His tongue was released but Lord Carlton made no move to get off him.

"Swear to me," he whispered.

Arthur's mouth remained shut, delaying the inevitable.

Lord Carlton moved, his lips now right against Arthur's ear. "Swear to me," he whispered again, sinful hunger in his voice.

Arthur trembled and squirmed. One of the lord's hands wrapped around his throat and squeezed while the other tightly gripped his hair.

"_Swear to me!"_ he commanded.

"I swear!" Arthur gasped, desperate for air.

Lord Carlton released his throat and raised himself up, stroking Arthur's cheek. The king coughed and turned away in disgust until his jaw was clenched in a powerful fist and he was forced to look up at his captor.

"Don't fight me, Artie," he whispered.

"I'll fight you with every breath that I have left in my body," Arthur weakly snapped. "I am _not_ yours!"

"Yes, you are."

Lord Carlton quickly pulled out a handkerchief and forced it between Arthur's teeth, tying it behind his head in an uncomfortable knot. The king uselessly struggled beneath the lord, his terrified eyes wide as the man's hands crept like spiders down his exposed chest towards his hips.

"_NO! PLEASE!"_ he screamed but the gag muffled the noise.

Lord Carlton then surprised him by heaving himself off the bed. Arthur's chest moved rapidly up and down as he breathed heavily through his nose, wondering what evil this devil's spawn was planning next. The lord untied the rope around his ankle and Arthur immediately kicked out.

"None of that, now," Lord Carlton chided, punching his leg.

The king gasped as the offended skin went numb. Lord Carlton then dragged the smarting leg over to the other and tied it down to the same post, forcing Arthur on his side. What was he doing? Arthur wondered. But then it all became clear when his other leg was retied to the opposite post, the result flipping his body so his back was exposed to the ceiling, the chain securing his hands rattling above his head.

"No! No! _NO!"_ Arthur screamed and thrashed, half his face pressed into the pillow, his breathing fast and shallow.

He felt Lord Carlton get back on the bed and silently screamed as his hands greedily explored his back. Further tears wet the pillow and Arthur closed his eyes, his chest heaving with sobs, his spirit breaking as his body prepared to be violated in the worst way possible. Lord Carlton grabbed his hips, his fingers cruelly curling around the one thing still protecting him from eminent exposure…

Arthur didn't know why in that moment he screamed for someone who was a world away. Perhaps it was because, deep down, he knew that if anyone could save him, it was the one whose life's mission was to protect him. The King of Camelot cried out from the depth of his terrified soul.

"_MER-IN!"_

The door of Lord Carlton's chambers exploded, the room filling with a marvelous blue light. Arthur craned his neck over his shoulder just as Lord Carlton was ripped away from him, the lord's body slamming onto the hard stone floor. The king vaguely heard Kay shouting profanities and threats while Lord Carlton retorted with something about possessions. The sounds of steel clashed several times before the death cry of his former torturer filled the chamber. All the while, Arthur's tearstained face stared at the blue orb floating three inches from his face. He didn't notice Kay as he freed him from his bonds and gathered him in his arms. He didn't notice as he was carried to another room in the estate nor when Lord Ector hovered concernedly over his bed while Kay told him what happened. All he could focus on was the blue orb now nestled between his fingers against his chest.

Warmth.

Protection.

_Hope_.

"You came," Arthur quietly sobbed while clutching the orb. _"You came."_

Holding fast to the one thing connecting him to the brother of his soul, the Once and Future King curled up on his side and fell asleep, cocooned in the security only Emrys could give while surrounded by guardians who wouldn't let anything further happen to him as long as they lived.

Finally, he was _safe_.


	8. Chapter 8

**It's been a while. I hope you enjoy this chapter. In answer to questions, no, Merlin does not know where Arthur is even though his magic helped him escape Lord Carlton. From what I remember from the Poisoned Chalice episode, Merlin doesn't remember what he did to save Arthur - his magic was acting instinctively to protect him. I feel that Gaius alone connected the dots that Merlin saved Arthur just as much as Arthur saved him. I could be wrong about that but that's what I'm going with to make this story work. Also, I apologize for not responding personally to the reviews from last chapter. I read them all and appreciated each one very much. Chapter 7 was one of my favorites to write even though I was very mean to Arthur. Poor guy. Don't worry; I'll be nicer to him - eventually. ;) **

**Reviews are love!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

* * *

Merlin woke to his whole body aching.

"Ugh," he groaned, rolling over and curling in on himself.

The last time he'd felt this way was after using the power of life and death to defeat Nimueh. That was ages ago. He felt like his magic had been taxed to its fullest capacity, leaving him physically worn. He needed relief – something –_anything._

A bath; maybe a bath would help.

He sat up and his muscles groaned in protest. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself out of bed and over to the tub, filling it with magic. His body visibly twitched as the water appeared, steaming hot and ready. Settling in the tub, Merlin let out a sigh of appreciation, resting his head against the lip and allowing the water to soothe the unexplainable pain.

What magic had he done yesterday? Nothing came to mind except – right; scrying King Bayard and giving him a protection shield. But surely that wouldn't have left him this depleted? Although, as of late, he _had_ been using a lot of magic; who wouldn't when the law finally allowed him to? Maybe the unlimited amount he'd been using had finally taken a toll on his body? It was possible but it could also be something else. Perhaps even a curse! Merlin wouldn't put it past Morgana – especially given current events. Frowning, he quickly concluded that, just to be sure, it would be best for Gaius to examine him.

He ended up leaving his chambers shortly after dressing, his heart tightening as he neared the king's quarters. No one had entered them since Arthur went missing, Gwen having taken up residence in the queen's chambers; she didn't feel right sleeping in the royal room without him. Despite the lack of residency, two Camelot guards were posted on either side of the door, protecting the objects within (including Excalibur).

"Any change?" Merlin asked.

"No, m'lord," one of them reluctantly replied.

He nodded his head and continued on, his spirit falling closer towards despair.

While the goddess has promised the king was alright, Merlin couldn't help feel disheartened. The longer the separation, the further his confidence fell. Not his confidence in Arthur – no, never that – but in himself. It took many years for him to realize this but the bond between them went both ways. While he strengthened Arthur, Arthur strengthened him. The consistent life and death struggles had forced the warlock to leave no room for failure. But he _had_ failed. Arthur was gone. And even though he had divine reassurance that the prat was alright Merlin couldn't help feeling he wasn't.

Maybe he was over-thinking the situation? He tended to do that. But then his over-thinking was usually proven right. Merlin frowned. He was never one to doubt his instincts. While he was sure he didn't feel Arthur was in any danger, he did feel something was wrong. And, confound it all, he had no way of finding out what it was! He couldn't exactly explain himself to Gaius either because the old physician would diagnose his thoughts as his usual brooding. No, for now he'd have to keep this to himself.

Frustrated, the warlock reached the physician's chamber.

"You're certain, Gaius?"

Merlin paused. What was Gwen doing here this early?

"You and I both know it to be true, my lady," said Gaius. "You cannot deny it. The signs are all there."

"And at a time like this," Gwen muttered, sounding troubled. Merlin strained his hearing, leaning closer to the door. After a pause, the queen cleared her throat. "I have your confidence in the matter?"

"I will say nothing," Gaius promised.

"Good. The last thing I want is for Arthur to be the last to know he has an heir."

Merlin's jaw dropped and a strangled gasp escaped his throat. A moment later the door was flung open, Gwen staring at him with shock and fear. The latter emotion, however, melted into relief before transforming into anger.

"Merlin!" she snapped, grabbing him by the neckerchief and yanking him inside. The door slammed shut as she rounded on him with fire in her eyes. "Were you eavesdropping?!"

"Not intentionally!" he defended, pulling himself free.

Gwen's glare lingered a second longer before transforming into a worried frown. "Oh, Merlin, what am I going to do?"

Forcing aside the shock he was still feeling, Merlin reached out and squeezed her shoulders.

"It'll be alright, Gwen."

"How can you be so sure? We're at war and he's –" she paused, releasing a sob as she covered her face. "He's not here!"

Merlin sent a panicked glance at Gaius who prompted him with a nod towards a chair. Sending him a grateful look, he guided Gwen towards it before conjuring a handkerchief.

"Look at me," she clucked, taking the offered token and dabbing her eyes with it, "I'm a complete mess."

"Yes."

"Merlin!" Gaius admonished.

"I mean, no! No, you're not!"

He sheepishly glanced at Gaius, his mentor glaring at him with folded arms. Shrugging, he turned back to the queen.

"You're sweet, Merlin, but I am and we both know it," she mumbled. "I just don't know how I'm going to handle this. I can't hide it from the people."

"You can for at least another month," said Gaius, "Which I would highly advise."

"But how can I lead them to war while with child? I cannot risk Arthur's heir but neither can I be seen as weak! The Council is barely tolerating me as it is!"

"Perhaps the Council should be informed?" Merlin mused.

Gaius immediately shook his head. "If you do that, you might as well tell the whole kingdom."

"But if we swear them to secrecy –"

"It won't work," Gwen interrupted. "Those old men are worse than the kitchen maids when it comes to gossip. Besides, they might use it to shut me out of further war plans, stating that I 'need to rest'. The last thing we want is those men being in charge of this war while Arthur is away."

"You're forgetting something though," said Merlin. Gwen raised an inquiring eyebrow. "If both you and Arthur are otherwise occupied, I'm in charge of the Council. You don't have to spearhead this on your own, Gwen. You know I would never approve a plan that would jeopardize Camelot. Leave those old worms to me if you need to slip out."

Enlightened, Gwen's worry transformed into relief. "You're right! Forgive me, Merlin. Sometimes I forget you're no longer Arthur's servant."

"So do I," he chuckled.

A fresh mantle of courage fell on the queen and she stood. "We can do this. I _know_ we can. Thank you, Merlin."

"It's what I'm here for."

She beamed before glancing between him and Gaius. "I trust that neither of you will speak of this delicate matter to anyone?"

"You have our word," Merlin stated as Gaius nodded.

Gwen's smile grew. "Thank you."

"Although, while not in council, I highly suggest you get some rest, my lady," Gaius chuckled, ever the physician. "You're going to need it."

"I have to listen to the people's petitions this afternoon but I should be able to take a small reprieve now," she mused. She was almost at the door when she turned around. "Oh, Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"You're supposed to be sending the other royals back to their kingdoms today."

The warlock smacked his forehead. "Right! I totally forgot. Thanks."

Gwen smiled and left.

Gaius turned his physician's eye on him the second the door was closed. "I take it Gwen wasn't the only one seeking medical advice this morning?"

"How could you tell?" Merlin asked with a slight frown.

"Merlin, please, after all these years you don't think I would recognize when you were utterly exhausted? Although I can't imagine why since the queen ordered you to get extra sleep yesterday."

Merlin gave a guilty sigh before sharing his concerns. Gaius immediately set to work running a few tests but, after half an hour, detected no trace of a curse.

He ended up giving the warlock a strengthening solution which definitely helped as Merlin spent the remainder of the day magicking the other royals back to their respective homes. It was early evening when the delegation from Nemeth – the last to leave – finally appeared in the courtyard. Merlin immediately noticed Princess Mithian's absence.

"Are we waiting for the princess, Your Majesty?" he asked as Rodor approached.

"My daughter has made arrangements to stay here until next we meet," he answered with a tired smile. Leaning forward, he muttered, "I know you have much on your mind but could you possibly keep an eye on her for me, Lord Merlin?"

"Of course," he promised, confused by the personal request; usually such things were seen to by their own guards.

"Thank you."

The warlock inclined his head and then began focusing his magic on opening the portal to Nemeth. A rectangular doorway phased into existence, the forested landscape of the desired kingdom now visible for all in the courtyard to see. Some of Rodor's men gasped.

"It's good to know you're on our side, Merlin," Rodor muttered, somewhat in awe. "I've never seen magic like this."

Merlin tried unsuccessfully not to blush. "It's not a common spell."

"Indeed not," the king agreed, holding out his hand. "Well then, until next we meet, Merlin."

Stunned but pleased by the display of camaraderie, Merlin shook his hand and nodded. "Sire."

Rodor then stepped through the doorway, surprising the warlock further; besides Annis, he had been the only royal not to question the portal's safety. Some of his men displayed variations of mistrust but most followed after their king without fear. Merlin watched them go until he caught movement in the corner of his eye. Glancing up, he saw Princess Mithian surveying the proceedings without emotion – until she caught him staring at her.

The princess startled and then composed herself, sending him a brief nod before hastily disappearing from view. Merlin stared a moment more and then blinked, refocusing his attention on keeping the portal open. After all of Rodor's men had made it through the warlock caused the anomaly to disappear with a simple flash of his eyes. Many that had gathered in the courtyard to watch the day's spectacle voiced their disappointment that it was over and then disbursed. Ignoring the masses, Merlin gratefully climbed the steps back into the castle.

He was utterly exhausted. Lately he'd fallen into the habit of joining Gwen for dinner but right now he just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep. But he hadn't seen her since this morning and should at least check in; Arthur would kill him if anything happened because he selfishly decided to sleep instead.

Meandering down the hall, Merlin focused on putting one foot in front of the other. It was grueling work. He stumbled at one point, grabbing hold of the wall for support. The hallway was moving. Or was that him? Merlin shook his head and forced his eyelids far apart. He was almost to the queen's quarters. Two more hallways; he could make it. And then he could magick himself right into bed.

"Come on, Merlin," he mumbled, lightly slapping his cheeks.

Eventually he made it (without further stumbling) to the queen's door and was about to knock when it opened.

"Oh – Merlin!"

"Mithian!" Merlin replied with just as much surprise, stumbling backward.

The princess composed herself and nodded her head –"Excuse me" – before brushing past him with her eyes focused on anything but him. Merlin watched her go until someone cleared their throat.

Merlin started. "Gwen –! Er, hello."

"Hello," she said, her eyes shifting from him to the retreating princess. "Is everything alright?"

Merlin shook his head. He definitely had _not_ been gaping after the gentle gait of Nemeth's princess nor admiring how her gown hugged her waist.

Forcing his focus solely on Gwen, he said, "The royals have all departed – except Princess Mithian." He then paused, clearing his throat. "You wouldn't, um, happen to know _why_ she stayed… would you?"

"Yes," she said sadly, "she just told me, poor thing. Apparently her father still wants her to strengthen Nemeth's ties with Camelot through marriage."

"Marriage?!" Merlin yelped. "Mithian? To whom?"

"Her father already has someone in mind but she wouldn't tell me who."

Merlin frowned. "Well… I suppose it makes sense… strengthening Camelot and Nemeth, I mean. Every kingdom wants security with their allies and that's the strongest kind."

"Yes… Merlin?"

Merlin was looking where Mithian had disappeared down the hall. "Yeah," he muttered, shaking his head, "Sorry. Um, listen, I'm exhausted. Would it be okay if I didn't join you for dinner tonight?"

"Sure," Gwen said, studying him with a concerned frown. "Merlin, are you _sure_ you're alright?"

"Yeah! Yeah, never better. I'll, um, I'll see you later."

And he quickly made his exit, twisting on his heel and disappearing with magic. A second later he reappeared on his bed, the mattress dipping down as his body sank into it.

A marriage alliance between Camelot and Nemeth.

He shouldn't be surprised Rodor wanted to try again. But was Mithian really okay with this? When rejected by Arthur, she seemed to have the same desire to find the love that he had. Well, that apparently wasn't enough for her father seeing as he already had someone in mind for her!

A glass vase near the window abruptly shattered and Merlin sat bolt upright, his heart racing as water seeped over the stone floor.

Had he…?

He jumped as someone suddenly knocked on the door.

"Coming," he tiredly called, forcing himself out of bed. "Mithian?!"

The princess sheepishly smiled. "Hello. Um, may I come in?"

"Of course." Bewildered, he let her past. "Er, was there something you needed?"

"Yes, actually," she said breathlessly, "I was wondering – _what happened?"_

"Huh?" Merlin then noticed she was looking at the broken vase. "Oh! Nothing," he weakly laughed, swiping his hand through the air and magicking away the mess, "just a, uh, accident. I forgot to clean it up."

"That's remarkable," she commented, staring at the floor. "Marcus would have had to say the spell in order for it to work."

"Most sorcerers do," he sheepishly replied. "I used to – for the bigger spells, that is."

"But never for something like that?"

Merlin tiredly shook his head. "Simple spells were always natural to me."

"Hmmm." She turned, catching him rubbing his tired eyes. "Oh, I am terribly sorry! You must be exhausted after all the magic you've used today."

"I'm fine," he said, trying to prove it with a smile but Mithian did not look convinced. Merlin, feeling rather uncomfortable with her scrutiny, hastily changed the subject. "So, what can I help you with, princess?"

She stared at him a moment longer. "Forgive me for running off earlier. I wanted to talk to you but the matter I wished to discuss might have seemed offensive to the queen. It involves my previous visit to Camelot."

Merlin's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"

Mithian wrung her hands and hesitantly confessed, "I fear that out of everyone here, I am most comfortable around you, Merlin."

His eyebrows rose further towards his hairline. "Me?"

"Well, when I was here last, I spent most of my time with Arthur and, subsequently, you."

"Right…?"

"And while I did spend quite a bit of time here, I'm afraid I can't really remember where everything is," she hastened to explain. "Since I know you more than anyone else, would it be too forward of me asking for your assistance in relearning the castle?"

"Oh. Sure! I mean, I'd be happy to show you around."

Mithian's face lit up and Merlin's stomach did a strange little flip.

"Thank you." She headed for the door but paused, her hand on the handle. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Bright and early," Merlin agreed, strangely elated.

Mithian smiled. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

The door shut and Merlin stared at it unconsciously, suddenly lost in fantasy…

_Showing Mithian every inch of the castle, he guided her down the steps to the cave where Kilgharrah used to reside. Studying the way her long hair hugged her beautiful face, Merlin leaned forward and –_

Merlin shook his head, desperate to clear it. No. No. _No!_ He wouldn't go there – he _couldn't_ go there. Mithian was a princess and he was just a peasant lucky enough to be promoted to a higher station to serve his king. Princesses married the highest of nobility. They had to. They weren't like kings, able to pick and choose their companion. Mithian was subject to her father and king just as any other Nemethian. She would have to do as she was bid and that was marry the man Rodor had in mind for her – even if it was a ridiculous rule.

Merlin couldn't really afford to be distracted by foolish desires anyway! Arthur was counting on him to lead Camelot in his absence. He couldn't let him down.

And so, forcing his selfishness aside, Merlin dressed for bed, angrily punching his pillows before settling in for the night.

"Don't be a fool, Merlin," he mumbled as further unbidden visions of Nemeth's princess danced through his head. "It'll never work."

Rubbing his eyes, he focused on how tired he was and finally fell asleep, leaving behind his tortured thoughts.


	9. Chapter 9

**A huge thank you for those who left reviews! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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**Chapter 09**

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"It wasn't your fault, son."

"How can you say that? I was the one who invited him here. I was supposed to protect him!"

"You did protect him. That blue ball led you right to him."

"And I'm thankful it did but why didn't it show up sooner? Arthur could have –"

"Yes, he could have. But he _didn't._ Kay, you can't keep blaming yourself for what happened."

"But Father –"

Arthur lay in what he knew to be Kay's bed, having recognized the chambers shortly after waking, only half-listening to the conversation happening in the next room. Ben the Physician was in the process of reapplying salve to the rope burns on his wrists; he'd come at some point in the night after Arthur had lost consciousness.

"Arthur?"

The king glanced up before looking back at the blanket, signifying he was listening.

"The burns are not severe but they will take a few days to heal." Having finished the redressing, Ben started wiping his hands with a damp cloth. "Try not to get them wet in any way. The bruise on your cheek should clear up around the same time. As for your throat, I recommend using your voice as little as possible for two days – preferably don't use it at all. And overall, get as much rest as you can."

Arthur nodded, still unable to meet the man's eyes. Ben disappeared into the next room where he then proceeded to tell Kay and Ector what they needed to do to help him heal; changing bandages, rest, the usual procedure. Arthur wasn't overly concerned. He'd had worse physical injuries. Letting out a depressed sigh, he stared at his hands.

Merlin's ball of light had disappeared while he was asleep and the loss was staggering. More than ever he wanted to go home. And while Ben said to rest, having time to simply wallow in misery was only going to make him worse.

As the others spoke next door, Arthur was plagued with memories of last night. His skin crawled at the very thought of Lord Carlton and he had to convince himself over and over again that the man was dead. If Merlin and Kay hadn't come when they did… Arthur closed his eyes and shivered.

He felt completely and utterly violated. Never in his life had he been in such a helpless position. And why would he be? He was the king – and before that, the prince. Such experiences didn't happen to royalty.

But they happened to others.

They happened to those who were too weak to fight for themselves.

How often had this occurred to the people in his kingdom? How many had suffered at the hands of those in power, accepting their fates because they knew there would be no rescuer? How many were, at this moment, _living_ it? And how many servants at the palace had suffered similarly?

Arthur's eyes flew wide open.

The palace– Guinevere – Merlin _– _had either of them…?!

No. No, certainly not. They wouldn't have been_… right?_

But how could he be sure? It was entirely possible they might have been; there were plenty of times both had been assigned to visiting nobles. Merlin would have stood a chance with his magic but Guinevere…

Fear gripped the king. He had to know. If any sleazy, pompous lord had laid a finger on either of them he would destroy any luxurious life they previously knew! He'd probably even have them executed. He was thankful Kay had taken care of Carlton; he would have done it himself if he could.

Arthur was pulled from these dark thoughts when someone cleared their throat at his bedside. It was Kay. Arthur immediately looked away, his cheeks burning. Who could blame him for his embarrassment? Kay had seen it all. He'd killed Carlton. He'd released him from his bonds. He'd witnessed him in his most vulnerable state.

"Arthur."

He gave no response.

"Arthur, please, look at me."

"Why?" he asked more viciously than intended.

Kay sighed through his nose and sat down by his side. "This is my fault. I'm sorry."

Arthur fiddled with the embroidery on the blanket. Though it hurt to speak, this was one conversation he knew he'd have to have.

"I don't blame you, Kay. Please don't blame yourself."

"But I was the one who brought you here!"

"And I accepted the job." He paused to swallow. "Lord Carlton's actions were his own."

"But if I had been paying attention…"

"_I_ didn't even know what his intentions were. He gave no sign."

"So… that was the first time he…?"

"Yes," Arthur murmured. "And, if you don't mind, I'd rather not talk about it anymore."

Kay studied him silently, clearly wanting to push the issue. Arthur glanced up at him and the nobleman gave in.

"Alright."

"Thank you," he mumbled gratefully. Painfully clearing his throat – and quickly wiping his cheek – Arthur changed the subject. "I thought you were supposed to leave with the knights this morning."

"And leave you after what happened?"

Incredibly touched, Arthur's eyes welled with unwanted tears. He knew how excited Kay had been about going to Camelot.

"I thought you wanted to become a knight," he rasped, suppressing his emotions (which did nothing to help his pained vocal cords).

"I do," Kay admitted, "but the welfare of my friends is more important to me than gaining a title."

Arthur blinked. "Friends?"

"What did you think we were?"

"I – I guess I thought…"

The corner's of Kay's mouth pulled downward and a crease emerged between his eyes. "You thought differently."

Arthur shrugged sheepishly. Once again he was unable to look at him. "You haven't exactly gone out of your way to talk to me."

"That's not true!" Kay argued. "If anything, _you're_ the one who has been rejecting _me!_ Every time I've approached, you've brushed me off."

Arthur opened his mouth to disagree but then realized Kay was right. In the near three weeks he'd been here, the noble had tried to strike up many conversations but he'd pushed him away, consumed with anger and hurt over his predicament. He'd ignored the witch's advice, instead wallowing in selfish woes.

It was high time he tried being a little more accepting of his situation.

Arthur looked at Kay. He'd saved his life and his chastity. The man was as valiant as any of his closest knights. What would be so bad embracing the role of a servant to a good man? And who said a servant couldn't be friends with a nobleman? Arthur inwardly smirked, thinking of a certain man who embodied that question.

Gathering his courage, he humbly apologized. "Kay, you have treated me with nothing but kindness and I have behaved appallingly. Can you forgive my previous actions?"

Stunned, Kay blinked and raised an eyebrow. "Sure… Where did the humility come from?"

"You could say I've had an epiphany. I'm trying to be sincere."

"Alright," he smirked. "And what epiphany might that be?"

"That you're a good man," Arthur replied seriously, "and I would consider it an honor if you'd let me personally serve you."

Kay's surprise was evident as he sat back and studied the supposed youth. "You want to be my manservant?"

Arthur nodded, looking once more at the blanket. "Because of what you did."

"Arthur, I'm not expecting a reward –"

"I know," he interrupted. "Kay, please, just, let me do this."

The noble remained silent for a moment before standing up and folding his arms. "Tell me why."

Arthur blinked. "Huh?"

"Tell me the _real_ reason why."

Arthur inwardly cursed. Had he really been so transparent?

"Do I have to?"

"Yes," Kay demanded.

The king couldn't believe what he was about to say. He'd only had a handful of delicate conversations such as this and every single one of them had either been with Guinevere or Merlin. This was the first he would share with someone he hardly knew. But he owed it to Kay, and to himself, to be honest.

"What I say, I will never say again," he said, looking Kay in the eye with such intensity that the noble's jaw loosened in surprise. Courage gathered and face on fire, Arthur confessed, "I don't feel comfortable being alone. In fact, I don't think I could go back to being a regular servant in your household. You saved me from something that…" – He shook his head. –"Look, the point is, I know that I can trust you and I would be more comfortable serving you than serving someone else."

Finished with his little speech, the king looked down at his clenched hands and waited. Vulnerable but true, he'd spoken from his heart. If he had to remain a servant, he'd gladly serve the man before him. Besides, he knew what was expected of a manservant and he'd had two weeks of experience as a general servant of the household. He had enough knowledge to perform the duties both from being served for years and from serving in Lord Ector's estate. Surely he could do it – if Kay accepted him.

"Alright."

Arthur's head snapped up. "What?"

"I trust you too, Arthur," he stated. "And I accept your offer." For the first time that day, the king smiled and Kay smiled back. "However, I have to ask: are you sure you're up for this?"

Arthur nodded. If Merlin could do it, so could he. "Yes."

"Alright," Kay muttered. "I'd order you to come with me to Camelot but Ben said you have to rest."

Arthur scowled. The last thing he wanted to do was rest. Resting meant free time and free time led to unwanted recollections. If Gaius were here, Arthur would ask if there were any magical means to heal him.

_Wait!_

"Kay!" he exclaimed but then immediately regretted it as his throat burned. "Urgh!"

"Arthur, calm down!" Kay cried in worry, rushing over and breathing out a curse. "I forgot you're not supposed to be speaking."

"It's alright," Arthur rasped.

"No, it's not! Stop talking!"

"Not until I've said this!" Arthur snapped.

Kay scowled but folded his arms, waiting expectantly.

"I can't sit here doing nothing until I'm healed," Arthur quietly confessed. "I'll go mad. I need to be doing something so I don't" – he paused – "so I don't remember."

"Arthur…"

"I don't want your pity!" the king shouted. Kay froze and Arthur inwardly swore. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I just don't want to dwell on it, alright? And that's exactly what I'll be doing holed up in this bed. The knights are already halfway to Camelot. If we don't leave now we might miss joining them for the battle."

"_We?"_

"You don't think I'm just going to stay behind!"

"Arthur, you don't exactly have the build of a warrior."

Arthur clenched his jaw_. If only he knew._

"I can hold my own." – Kay scoffed – "I can! Look, you can leave on your own but I'll find a way to follow you. I'm from Camelot so don't tell me I'll get lost in the woods. Either way, I'm coming, so you can speed up my healing process with your magic or I'll just deal with it as we go."

Kay stared at him, eyebrows raised. Arthur didn't back down, glaring defiantly just as Merlin would have done. After a moment, the fight went out of Kay's eyes and he dropped his arms, sighing.

"Alright, Wart."

Arthur bristled at the nickname. "Do you have to call me that?"

"Yes," Kay sneered, "seeing as you're being one again. I'm not proficient in healing spells but I should be able to give you enough energy to help your body speed up its own recovery. But, once I do this, you are to rest that voice of yours for the rest of the day, understood?"

Arthur nodded.

Kay raised his hand. _**"Beodan afol; edwyrpan."**_

The exhaustion and aching pains in Arthur's body instantly evaporated, leaving him invigorated. He felt like he could wrestle a raging boar. A grin spread across his thin face while Kay cleared his throat and squared his shoulders.

"Right, Wart," he said, his voice developing a commanding tone, "we're leaving for Camelot as soon as you're ready."

Arthur flung the covers aside and quickly stood. "I just need a shirt and my boots."

Kay frowned. "It's early autumn, Wart. You'll need more than just a tunic while traveling."

"I don't have a coat."

"Then we'd best get you one," said Kay, tossing Arthur's only spare tunic from a nearby chair. "My father sent Will to fetch it," he explained.

Arthur froze. If Will had been here when he'd been brought in…

"Everyone knows," he whispered, horrified.

Kay placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "Word travels fast, I'm afraid."

Arthur was distraught. He couldn't go out there and face the rest of the household. He couldn't bare their looks of sympathy and he certainly didn't want to hear anything they might be saying about him.

"I have an idea," Kay muttered. Walking over to his closet, the nobleman pulled out a large traveling cloak with a hood. "Put that on. I want you to go down to the stables and ready the horses. You can pick any of the spares you want. Lucky for you, I packed last night. My travel bag should still be in the stable since I planned to leave after making sure you were alright. Once I speak with my father, I'll meet you there."

Arthur nodded, pulling the cloak over his thin shoulders. It was huge but it did the job in hiding his face from prying eyes. A few minutes later, he managed to get to the stables without encountering another servant. He did, unfortunately, run into Orin once inside.

"Who's there?" the boy asked, fear evident in his voice from the sudden appearance of the stranger.

After a short debate, Arthur reluctantly removed the hood.

"Artie!" he cried. "You scared me!"

"Sorry."

Arthur quickly shuffled past and started looking at the three other horses Ector owned, choosing a brown mare named Rain. Ignoring Orin, he set to work preparing her for travel. After a few tense minutes, he heard Orin return to his task, filling the stalls with hay.

"Going somewhere?" he suddenly asked as Arthur coaxed Rain into a bridal.

The king frowned. He was supposed to be resting his voice but maybe it would be a good thing, letting the others know through Orin that he wasn't sticking around. One small conversation wouldn't hurt.

"I'm leaving with Kay," he confessed.

"Oh… Are you going to come back?"

Arthur paused. With his back turned, he stroked Rain's nose and muttered, "I don't think so."

"Oh." – Another shovel of hay was tossed. – "I'll miss you."

Arthur slowly turned to face Orin, surprised that the youth wasn't pressing him for details. Others would have.

"I'll miss you too," he said truthfully.

Orin smiled. "If this is goodbye, I want you to know you're the first real friend I've had in a long time."

Arthur didn't really know what to say. He wasn't good with the whole 'expressing your feelings openly' thing. Thankfully he was saved from having to comment by the appearance of Kay.

"Are you ready to go?"

Arthur nodded in response, deciding it was time to do as Kay asked by remaining silent.

"Good. I assume you know how to ride?"

Arthur smirked and nodded again.

"We're going to stop in town to get a few supplies and then we'll be riding hard to catch up with the knights. I trust I won't have to worry about you?"

Arthur folded his arms and rolled his eyes.

The reaction made Kay laugh. "Alright; let's go, Wart."

Arthur prepared to hoist himself into the saddle but paused. Orin had hastily gone back to work in the presence of Kay but stopped when he noticed Arthur looking at him. The king inclined his head and smiled. Orin mimicked the actions, though they were accompanied with sadness. The parting wasn't the best but it would have to do.

Arthur followed Kay into town and quietly observed as he bought two tunics, a warm traveling cloak, a bedroll, and enough food to last two days. When Nemeton was out of view, he halted their progress and gave Arthur the traveling cloak he'd just bought, claiming for himself the oversized one the king had previously been wearing. After that, they rode hard, entering the woods minutes later.

The forest was experiencing the transition from summer to fall, leaves scattering the beaten path and a chill cooling the two travelers faces. Some of the trees above them displayed leaves of gold amidst the green. Arthur took in his surroundings with a satisfied smile, feeling content in the solitary environment.

They rode for many leagues, pushing the horses until an hour before dark. Kay was disappointed not to have caught up with the knights but he was optimistic they'd reach them by mid-morning. He tasked Arthur with setting up camp while he went off to hunt for dinner. The king didn't mind the work. It reminded him of when he was on patrol.

Arthur quickly discovered that the purchased bedroll was for him (having found Kay's with his travel sack). He set both down near what would eventually be the fire before venturing further into the woods to gather firewood. Kay returned with his spoils – a couple of rabbits – just as Arthur got the fire going. There was a little teasing from the noble upon finding out Arthur was abysmal at cooking ("how can you be my servant if you don't even know how to cook?") but he truly didn't mind making the meal instead of the king.

Sometime after their bellies were full of rabbit stew and the sky had erupted with stars, Kay broke the silence.

"Hey, Wart?"

Arthur scowled. "Must you continue calling me that?"

The nobleman smiled. "I'm afraid so."

"Fine," the king sighed in annoyance before prompting, "What?"

"I know I told you to rest your voice but I just had the thought: We're going to Camelot."

Arthur looked at the fire, prodding one of the ashen logs with a stick.

"Well," Kay prodded.

"Well, what?"

"It's where you came from. Are you okay with going back?"

Arthur didn't answer. He wasn't entirely sure how he should be reacting. Part of him was positively mortified over the very idea of setting foot in his city being as he was. Two of the witch's requirements were to refrain from declaring his identity and admitting he was under a spell. The temptation to loosen his tongue in Camelot was as tantalizing as picking up a sword. But he couldn't. He'd have to pretend he didn't know anyone there. He would have to lie to his loved ones if they crossed paths. Could he really do that?

"Wart?"

Arthur blinked. He'd been staring at the fire too long. His eyes burned a little from the blaze. "Sorry," he mumbled, rubbing them. "I guess… I'm not sure."

"If you're not comfortable, I could arrange for you to stay in one of the villages just outside the city."

"We might not have time for that," Arthur countered before quietly adding, "And I'd rather remain with you."

"Alright." The fire popped as Kay threw in another log. "Get some sleep, Wart."

Arthur shook his head. "I'll take first watch."

"You should be resting."

"I'm fine."

The two glared at each other before Kay let out a huff, muttering something about stubborn servants before settling into his bedroll.

"You'd better wake me for my turn," he warned.

Arthur promised he would and, after a short time, Kay was fast asleep.

The king resumed idly poking the fire, his brain overcome with different scenarios of running into Guinevere, Merlin, and his other friends. He had no idea how to react to any of them. Frustrated and anxious, he threw his stick into the flames.

"You shouldn't worry too much, Arthur."

The king nearly leapt out of his skin. Sitting opposite him, in a gown of blue, was The Witch. Arthur quickly looked at Kay.

"Don't worry about him; he'll stay asleep until after we've concluded our little chat. Oh, and your voice should be fine to use."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "How did you know I was here? And how did you know about my voice?"

"Please," she laughed, "I've been watching you this whole time."

Anger coursed through the king and he ground out through clenched teeth, "You have?"

"There's no need to be upset," she chided, "nothing happened to you."

"Nothing happened?!" Arthur shouted, leaping to his feet. "NOTHING HAPPENED?!"

"My, you _are_ upset," she crassly observed.

"You have _no idea_ what I went through!"

"Oh, but I do," she countered. "It might not happen to every servant but there are countless individuals who suffer as you did – except they don't have anyone to save them. I knew Emrys – through Kay – would prevent Lord Carlton from actually defiling you. If he hadn't stepped in, I would have."

"Really?" Arthur snorted. "Why am I having a hard time believing that?"

"Possibly because you're still angry with me for reducing you to this life?"

"You know what? I am angry!" Arthur snapped. "There is a war on the horizon! Do you even care about that?"

"Not really."

Arthur stared, temporarily flummoxed. "Excuse me?"

The Witch shrugged. "I care about Destiny not the squabbles of men."

"Well, _my_ destiny is to unite the land of Albion! I can't do that if I'm stuck in the body of a twelve year old and living the life of a servant!"

"That is what you believe since you cannot see what I see."

"Then enlighten me!"

The Witch contemplated the invitation before shaking her head. "You know, I don't think I will. Now, before you throw a royal fit, I thought I'd bring you some peace."

"Peace," he scoffed, "sure."

"Yes, peace," she patiently repeated. "You can be rest assured that you will not run into anyone you intimately know while in Camelot."

Arthur froze. "I won't?"

The Witch chuckled. "No, you won't. You won't be there long enough to experience an encounter. Now, you _will_ see your friends from a distance but you must not approach or attract their attention in any way."

"But you said I would be restored to my former glory if I obeyed your three rules!"

"In the right time and in the right place, Arthur," she clarified.

"And when is that exactly?"

"Once you've reach Othanden."

Arthur's prepared retort died in his throat. "Wait – _really?"_

The woman smirked. "Yes, Arthur, really. Do you think you can be a servant for another week?"

The king narrowed his eyes. "You don't think I can do it?"

She shrugged. "You will face great temptation in Camelot."

"I'm not as weak as you think," Arthur declared. "I _will_ make it to Othanden and, once I do, you _will_ restore me to my proper self."

"You make it sound like a command."

"Because it is!" he snapped. "I have had enough of you toying with my life, Witch. You will swear an oath to me that you will keep your word!"

She observed him a moment and then laughed. "Oh, I do love a man with spirit! Very well, Arthur. You have my word that, once in Othanden, you will be restored."

"Truly?"

"Truly," The Witch agreed and then stood. "Now, you should get some rest. You're going to need it."

And then she disappeared.

Quietly cursing, Arthur looked at the sky realizing it was about time he traded off with Kay. After gently waking him, the king settled into his own bedroll and quickly fell asleep, his last thoughts cursing The Witch that seemed to be trying her hardest to ruin his life.

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**Spell: Give strength, recover**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin**

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**Chapter 10**

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Merlin was running late.

"I'm such an idiot," he muttered as he hurried down a flight of steps.

While promising Princess Mithian he would show her around Camelot, he'd neglected the fact that he was supposed to be helping Gwen run the kingdom in Arthur's absence. Having sent a note via magic requesting the princess meet him for lunch, the First Advisor skidded to a halt, caught his breath, and entered the council chambers.

"How can we be sure there will be enough food to supply our army as well as our people?" Lord Fairfax was asking as Merlin sat down next to Gwen. He shot her an apologetic smile.

Gwen barely inclined her head to him as she addressed the lord. "According to the latest report, the harvest is overly abundant compared to last year's."

"That may be so, Your Highness, but it still won't be enough to ration our army as well as our people should this war last all winter," Lord Dennison pointed out.

"While our hope is that it will not, we must ration everything we have," Gwen stated.

"And how do you suggest we do that?" Lord Vambrant sneered.

Merlin scowled. Every time Arthur wasn't around, these men were determined to question the queen's every move. While also a victim of their viciousness, Merlin didn't feel it fair to allow them to attack Gwen when she was already dealing with carrying the heir to the throne.

"We can make it so each province receives a calculated amount of rations each month based on the populace," he suggested, gaining everyone's attention. "And to ensure none of the people starve the rations will be provided and overseen by an armed guard we can trust."

"Is the extra precaution really necessary, Lord Merlin?" asked Lord Dennison.

"Yes. I, for one, am no stranger to men stealing that which isn't theirs," he stated. "Those who hunger for power will often prey upon those unable to defend themselves."

"And are you accusing _us_ of such injustice?" Lord Vambrant barked from across the table.

Merlin narrowed his eyes and muttered, "I didn't accuse anyone at this table of abusing the people of their lands, Lord Vambrant. I was speaking of brigands, bandits, and mercenaries."

The lord's round face turned as red as a cherry.

"Of course you were, Lord Merlin," said Lord Andrew. "Only one aiming for discord would assume you were targeting those of this council, which, I do not believe was Lord Vambrant's intent?"

Lord Vambrant's smile could curdle dairy as he agreed through clenched teeth. "Of course it wasn't."

Merlin smiled at Lord Andrew. The man had become an ally after discovering his daughter had magic. This wasn't the first time he'd helped put an impudent councilman back in his place.

Geoffrey of Monmouth cleared his throat. "While I agree that an armed guard would help dissuade sinister intent, it would also reduce our army's numbers."

"It is a sacrifice," Gwen admitted, "but a necessary one. There is no point defending a land if there are no people living in it. Secured rations mean secured populace and that is what Arthur would care about."

"Yes, but if our army fails to secure the land then the people will die from invaders," Lord Dennison argued.

"You forget we will not be fighting this battle alone," Gwen rejoined. "With the strength of our allies I am confident we will succeed."

"But Your Highness–"

"King Arthur would rather suffer hunger himself than to see his people starved and ill equipped for winter!" Gwen interrupted. "And any knight and soldier in our army would rather their families and friends be cared for than starved while they're away. A portion of guards _will_ deliver food to the people, my lords. That is no longer up for debate. And may I be so bold as to suggest you start thinking with your hearts instead of your rotund stomachs."

The steel in her voice silenced and even awed the men (though most would never admit to the latter). It took everything Merlin had not to let a triumphant grin split his face. It was rare to see Gwen display authority of this magnitude and it was moments like this that reminded everyone why Arthur had married her. She was their queen and therefore deserving of their respect.

"Very well, My Lady," Geoffrey acquiesced. "How do you suggest we organize the guards?"

"We must place a man we can trust in charge of the rationing," she continued. "He will work with Sir Leon and select the men we need before the rest of the army departs. Now, who is this going to be?"

Observing the table, Merlin knew immediately who Arthur would have appointed.

Having inherited his fortune and title when his entire family had tragically died in a fire, Lord Nicolas was young but he was also good. He'd trained as a knight under Sir Leon until the accident and held valor that was equal to any knight of the Round Table. Arthur held him in high esteem and, after observing him, the warlock had to agree with his king's judgment. He was a quiet sort, but fully capable – and trustworthy.

"I would suggest appointing Lord Nicolas for the task," Merlin said, breaking the contemplative silence.

"_Me?"_ Lord Nicolas gasped, practically jumping in his chair.

Merlin sent him an encouraging nod.

"I believe that to be a fine proposition," Gwen agreed. "King Arthur has spoken highly of you, Lord Nicolas. I know he would support Merlin's proposal."

After a tense moment, Lord Nicolas swallowed and straightened his shoulders. "Your Highness, I would be honored to serve our people in this capacity."

"Good," Gwen smiled. "See that you report to Sir Leon after this meeting and immediately begin the necessary preparations."

Lord Nicolas nodded.

Gwen faced the rest of the group. "There is one more order of business we must discuss. As you all know, in Arthur's absence I am to rule as I see fit. I will be traveling with the army to Othanden and therefore appoint Sir Elyan as Regent of Camelot until I and or Arthur return."

There was an immediate outcry but Gwen slammed her hands on the table and forced herself to her feet. Silence reigned as the queen drew herself to her full height. Even Merlin was cowed by her sudden ferocity.

"This is _not_ up for negotiation! Sir Elyan is the King's brother-in-law and, while you may not respect me, you _will_ respect him! You already know that by order of King Arthur he is next in line should an heir not be produced. Arthur _will_ return to us and should he find that any of you have disserved Elyan or me, you will have more than the loss of your positions to fear. Elyan _will_ be Regent in my absence. _Is. That. Clear?"_

"Yes, Your Highness," was the answering response from every man at the table.

None dared say more. Satisfied, Guinevere promptly dismissed the council. Never before had the room cleared so fast when the queen was in charge. Merlin let out a low whistle before turning to Gwen. His smile disappeared, however, when he saw the state of the queen. He magicked a bucket just in time, the sick pouring from Gwen's mouth plopping noisily inside. Merlin held her hair back until she was finished, conjuring a cup of water.

"Thank you, Merlin," she rasped, wiping her mouth with her handkerchief after gulping down the offered glass.

"Let's be thankful you didn't do that in the middle of your rousing speech," he chuckled.

The queen laughed weakly. "It wouldn't have done me any favors, would it?"

"I'm afraid not," Merlin smirked. "Good job, though. I don't think I've ever seen you that intense before."

"You haven't seen me alone with Arthur," she said with a wicked grin. "The things I can get that man to do…"

"Gwen," Merlin groaned, wrinkling his nose.

The queen laughed. "Hey, it's good practice. Although, commanding a room full of men is much harder than simply dominating one. I think I'll let Arthur handle all the meetings when he returns."

"Though you've given me more information about you two than I _ever_ needed to know in my lifetime, I'm sure Arthur will like that," Merlin muttered before studying her. "You should rest, Gwen. You look like you need it."

"I think you're right," she sighed. "Help me to my chambers?"

"Of course."

After making sure the queen was secured and attended to by a maid, Merlin left in search of the nearest servant. He found Kallum and asked him to fetch two lunches from the palace kitchens, the reward being he would magically clean the rest of the windows he'd been tasked to wash. Kallum happily complied, promising to deliver them to Merlin's chambers. Seeing to the windows in quick fashion, Merlin found his way to Mithian.

The princess was on the training grounds, a crossbow in hand and a target in sight. A few squires were watching her with their mouths slightly open, shocked that a lady possessed such remarkable skill. She released another arrow, the bolt slamming into the target one ring from the bullseye.

"Were you aiming for that?"

Mithian turned to Merlin with a smile. "And if I was?"

"Then I'd say the lady has extraordinary aim."

"Then you would be right," she chuckled, replacing the crossbow where the others rested on a rack. "Lunch?"

Merlin offered his arm. "Right this way."

They entered the courtyard, dodging a group of knights that had arrived from one of the provinces farther out from the city.

"There'll be more in the next few days," said Merlin as they headed for the steps.

"Do you think all of them will arrive before the army departs?"

"I think so. A call to arms is something the knights take very seriously around here."

"As they – _Richard?"_ Mithian gasped, halting mid-step.

One of the knights that had just dismounted looked their way and, upon recognition, launched himself towards the princess. Mithian dropped Merlin's arm and hastened to reach the knight, grasping his hands tightly in fond greeting. Merlin watched the scene unfold, something equivalent to a dragon rising within his chest.

"Richard, it _is_ you!" Mithian cried with delight. "You look wonderful."

"As do you, princess," Sir Richard replied, his green eyes surveying her with warmth. "What brings you to Camelot?"

"I attended the war council last week with my father but decided to stay. I heard all the knights were returning to the citadel. I was so hoping to run into you."

"I'm glad you did," Sir Richard said, finally noticing they were being watched. "Um…"

"Oh, Merlin!" Mithian twisted around to face the warlock. "This is Richard. Richard, this is Merlin, Court Sorcerer and First Advisor to the King."

Merlin stepped forward only to stumble on a loose cobblestone. Flustered, he caught himself and hastily thrust out his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Lord Merlin," the knight smiled. "I have heard many great things concerning you."

"Richard and I are old friends," Mithian explained with an excited smile. "His father, Lord Tennison, is one of my father's advisors."

"I decided to be a knight of Camelot because I didn't want to serve in the same army as my three older brothers," he confessed.

"They tease him something fierce," Mithian giggled. "I can't even tell you how sad I was when you decided to move away! You were the only one who didn't tease me whenever I said I wanted to train with the rest of the knights."

"I believe a woman is fully capable of learning how to wield a sword and shoot a crossbow if that is her wish."

"I agree. You know, Queen Guinevere can also do those things," Merlin interjected.

"That's what I've heard," Sir Richard replied with a dazzling smile. "I've been away from the citadel for so long; I've yet to meet the queen."

"She's wonderful," Mithian said while Merlin nodded in agreement.

"I'm sure. Say, Mithian, I know I just arrived but would you like to join me for a private dinner this evening?"

"I would love that! The seventh bell?"

Richard smiled. "Like old times. Forgive me; I should rejoin the others. We need to report in."

Mithian allowed him to kiss the back of her hand before he retreated. The princess then turned to Merlin with a large smile on her face. Merlin did a poor job of mimicking her. He felt like a griffin had just slammed into his chest.

"Shall we?"

Merlin's brow furrowed. "Pardon?"

"Go to lunch?" Mithian prompted, her smile fading somewhat.

"Oh, right, of course."

Merlin led the princess to his chambers, trying his best to disburse the melancholy suffocating his heart. It proved difficult since Mithian continued to tell him all about Sir Richard and the many adventures they'd had growing up. They were dazzling tales, one even involving them getting lost in the palace crypt, and while they made Merlin upset, they were making Mithian happy. Shouldn't that be what he wanted?

Forcing himself out of his silent pity-party, Merlin decided to do his best to make Mithian smile. Reaching his chambers, he placed his hand on the handle and paused, an idea coming to him. Releasing the required magic, he pushed the door open. Mithian gasped.

Merlin's chambers were gone, replaced with a scene straight out of the forest surrounding Camelot. Even the air felt different, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves near what used to be the ceiling, now a cluster of trees and open sky. Birds fluttered in and out of the branches and a hare disappeared in its hole. In the center of the room was a picnic perched on a large blanket surrounded by thick pillows. Mithian's slipper pressed into the grass, her dress slithering across the green floor as she slowly entered the room, mesmerized by it all.

"Oh, Merlin," she whispered.

"I thought a picnic would be fun but, with war on the horizon, it isn't wise to leave the citadel."

"Oh, no, this is just fine," she muttered, settling down on the blanket. "It's more than fine, actually; exquisite even."

Merlin joined her, grinning like a fool. "I'm glad you like it."

Once both were comfortably on the blanket, they dug in and were halfway through their meal when Mithian cleared her throat.

"Merlin, can I ask you something?"

Merlin lowered his glass. "Sure."

"Where is Arthur? I know Queen Guinevere said he was away on a special mission that would help the war but I can't help feel that isn't true."

Merlin frowned. "Why?"

"Well, because you're not with him."

Merlin blinked. "Why should that mean anything?"

Mithian scoffed. "Merlin, do you believe me to be stupid?"

"Of course not!"

She pursed her lips. "I may have only been in Camelot a short time but it was enough to see how inseparable you two are. So either you're having a fight or he's missing and you don't know how to find him." Merlin stared and Mithian pressed further. "You hide it well but I can tell you're depressed."

"You can, can you?" Merlin asked a little coolly.

"It's your eyes," she muttered.

"What about them?"

"The color is not as vibrant when you're unhappy."

Once again, the warlock was shocked by her observation.

"I… hadn't noticed," he admitted.

Mithian smiled sadly. "So, was it a fight?"

"No."

"Then he _is_ missing?"

Merlin bit his lip and looked away. Should he tell her? She wasn't from Camelot. A missing king meant a vulnerable kingdom and Camelot could not afford having any potential threats learning this information. But could Mithian really be considered a potential threat? There was nothing sinister about her! She was kind, compassionate, strong, and noble. Beautiful, smart, _soft_…

Merlin was looking at her, studying her eyes. The milky brown depths were mesmerizing, pulling him in, casting their own unique spell. He caved without thinking.

"He disappeared almost three weeks ago," he confessed. "My magic can't find him."

"Oh, Merlin," Mithian whispered, her hand resting over his, "I'm sorry."

Merlin swallowed painfully and then told her everything, from following Brenin's trail to learning of Arthur's supposed safety from the Triple Goddess.

"Do you believe her?" Mithian asked when he was finished. "Do you feel Arthur is safe?"

Merlin sighed. "It's complicated. Until yesterday I felt he was fine."

"What happened yesterday?"

He shrugged. "I just felt like something wasn't right. I still feel uneasy but there's nothing I can do. I have no idea where he is. I've tried everything from scrying to seeking the council of dragons but nothing has worked."

"I'm terribly sorry," she sympathized, "There's nothing more frustrating than facing the unknown. For a long time we didn't know whether or not my brother, Marcus, was alive. There were even whispers from the lords that my father should make me the sole heir. I'm glad Marcus returned. I don't want to rule a kingdom."

"You don't?"

She gave a humorless laugh. "All the pressure and expectations; it's hard enough just being a princess. If I had it my way, I'd simply disappear into the woodwork. You're lucky, Merlin. You can do that."

A humorless laugh escaped the warlock. "I used to be able to do that but since becoming Court Sorcerer and First Advisor, I'm at the forefront just as much as Arthur. And, no, it's not my favorite place to be."

"You must envy your past then," she said.

"Actually, I don't," Merlin mused, "Not completely, anyway." Catching her confused frown, he explained, "Having to hide who I really am from everyone I cared about; it was the worst. I had to lie every single day and I hated it. Living in plain sight took some time to get used to but I feel freer than I have in my entire life."

"I wish I could feel that way," Mithian muttered, pushing a couple of grapes back and forth on her plate. "It's not easy being on display in a golden cage."

"I can only imagine," he agreed, thinking of her arranged marriage to whomever her father had chosen. "I wish I could help."

"You've already helped," she assured, leaning forward to take his hand. "You treat me like a regular person, not some delicate piece of finery to be handled with the utmost care. And I'm truly thankful for that, Merlin. It means the world to me."

She was casting her spell again. Merlin drew unconsciously closer, seeing her soul through her eyes. She was warm, like sunlight, comforting and sure; her skin like newly fallen snow, pure and unblemished. Her hair, brown like the earth after fresh rain, cascaded around her thin shoulders. _Such exquisite beauty…_

The bell tolled and the spell was broken, Mithian pulling back, taking Merlin's heart with her.

"Gosh, is that the time?" she said breathlessly, standing up. "I should go. I need to prepare for the evening."

"Oh, right," Merlin muttered and joined her, all the while mentally attempting to clear his thoughts.

He walked her to the door, the magical forest fading away, replaced with his usual chambers. Mithian watched the change with fascination.

"You are remarkable, Merlin," she whispered.

He sent her a sheepish smile. "Thanks."

"I'll be going then," she said, staring intently at him. "Will you have time to show me around Camelot tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? I think so," he said, his thoughts still fuzzy.

"If not, you can send another note like you did today," she smiled and turned to go but then paused. "Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Try not to worry too much over Arthur. I know he'll turn up when the time is right."

"Right. Mithian, could you keep what I told you to yourself?"

"Of course," she promised.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Merlin. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Right. Yes. Tomorrow."

Mithian smiled one more time and then left, leaving the warlock staring at the door without really seeing it. He slumped forward, his forehead causing a dull _thunk_ as it connected with the wood.

He was in trouble. He was in _definite_ trouble. His breathing was shallow, his cheeks slightly flushed, and his heart was smashing against his ribcage like a hummingbird in flight. He hadn't felt this way in years.

But he shouldn't be feeling this way. It would only lead to ruin and disaster when her suitor was made known.

But he couldn't help the way he felt anymore than he could stop the sun from crossing the sky.

"Hopeless fool," he quietly chided, pushing himself away from the door only to fall swiftly onto his bed. "It'll never work, Merlin. When are you going to realize that? It will _never_ work."

He rolled over onto his side and stared out the window unseeing, wishing that Arthur was here, that Sir Richard was not, and ultimately that he was wrong.


End file.
